


Impedimenta

by JesWithOneEss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, F/M, Post Hogwarts AU, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:30:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4650591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JesWithOneEss/pseuds/JesWithOneEss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron and Hermione were living separate lives, until Hermione decides to make a drastic change, incidentally throwing herself into Ron's world. However, it isn't easy falling in love when both are determined to impede the inevitable every step of the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unbeknownst

**Author's Note:**

> The story is rated M (explicit) for later chapters, which include adult language and sexual situations. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry or his friends.

Making lists of lists, and even more lists about when to make lists.

Books and articles, articles about books, and books about books.

Writing and editing then more editing; crossing out and rewriting, and onto the next.

Schedules and keeping appointments.

Being punctual, prepared and looking the part.

This was her life.

She worked extremely hard to get to this point in her career. At twenty-one years old some might say she was too young to be this far ahead in her life. Some might say that she should be grateful to have had the opportunities she was given in order to achieve her goals at such a young age.

The truth was it wasn’t as easy as some may think. Where it seemed like knowing all the right answers in class came easily to her, she actually poured over many books, did extra credit on almost every assignment, and studied ahead to the next one in order to appear as if her being smart came naturally. She supposed to some extent it did, but she was especially tenacious when it came to her work ethic, and that is what got her to where she was today: Senior Editor for the French wizarding newspaper, La Tribune Magie.

However, the path she took to get there wasn’t everything she had hoped for. With all the knowledge in her brain, and her innate ability to properly manage her time, money and professional life, she also had her own set of passions that she never got to explore. She cared about the world, people and creatures. More specifically, the unlawful and inhumane way they were treated. She thought being in a position where she got to showcase these injustices through journalism would be enough, but it wasn’t. She needed to be part of the change.

It was a Tuesday morning and as she sat at her desk, surrounded by highlighted and heavily edited piles of articles about enslaved elves, murdered muggles and dark wizards doing terrible things she wondered how she let herself become trapped by this life of rigid solitude.

Hermione sat back with a sigh and pushed away the frizzy brown tendrils that seemed to always find their way out of her tight bun. Normally mail was sent through interoffice magical flying paper swans, so when a small owl was suddenly tapping at her window, clutching a roll of parchment papers, she jumped to her feet. She opened the window and shrieked as it barreled into the room. It flew haphazardly in wide circles and knocked over her frame holding a photo of her and her parents in front of Big Ben. The glass shattered on the floor as the owl made a beeline for Hermione’s desk, scattering papers everywhere.

“Oh my!” Hermione exclaimed with a hand to her heart. “You are quite the energetic one, aren’t you?” She used her wand to repair the glass and righted the frame back onto its shelf, then set the papers right on her desk before tending to the owl that was pecking her lightly on her arm.

“Oh, alright,” she said gently, shaking her head as she and pried the rolled layers of parchment from its tiny claw. “Let’s see if this is what I think it is.”

As she read the little owl hopped to the top of her lamp and perched there, making small hooting noises and bristling its feathers.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Hello! I hope this letter finds you alright. I had to use my brother’s barmy owl as mine is off doing God knows what and where. I seriously need to find a new one._

_I’m writing about the job opening you asked about the last time we wrote. I asked my brother to take the resume you had sent me into work and ask around because he has clout, but mostly because he does whatever I say. It must have been one hell of a resume because you got it! They gave the acceptance letter and form to Ron since he works there. I included them with this letter. Just fill it out and send it to the Ministry, Department of Magical Creatures, or something like that. You know more about it than I do, obviously. You’d start off as an intern, but you’re super smart so I’m sure you’ll level up in no time._

_I’m so excited! I admit I’m all for you moving back to_ _London_ _! I know Harry and the rest would love to meet you! Let me know as soon as possible what you decide. Harry and I are happy to have you stay with us until you get a flat and everything._

_Seriously, you’re incredibly brave to make such a leap and try something new. I will help you in any way I can!_

_Talk soon,_

_Ginny_

Hermione took a deep breath and let it out in a laugh. She covered her mouth in mild shock, unable to believe that it had worked. She could potentially change her life with just one owl post. She knew she should take more time to consider it, but this change was a long time in the making. She was unhappy in her current situation: a job she felt she had outgrown and a nonexistent social life. She was ready to finally _live_.

She had met Ginny two years ago through a mutual friend who is now Ginny’s sister-in-law, Fleur Delacour. She and Hermione went to school together and even though they weren’t in the same year they became friends. And when Fleur had came back from the Triwizard Tournament, telling her all about Hogwarts and the dangerous things she had to do, and about Harry Potter, whom everyone already knew about from the papers (By this time Hermione had already written and published many articles about this wizard and his friends), she wondered: had her parents let her stay at home and not sent her to France, what would her life had been like?

Hermione couldn’t attend the Fleur’s wedding, and then soon after her friend went into hiding so they lost touch for a while. But two years ago she brought Ginny along on a visit and Hermione felt an instant connection with the red-haired, loud-mouthed, quick-witted, younger girl who had a passion for Quidditch Hermione had never heard before. They also had working for a newspaper in common, as Ginny wrote about Quidditch for The Daily Prophet. They exchanged letters and Ginny even visited her on her own last summer. Hermione didn’t have many friends, and the closest people she could give that label to were so far away, a fact that only aided in her decision to leave.

She also missed her parents and going to all the places around London that she grew up in. She loved France, but her heart, and mind, wasn’t here anymore.

_Dear Ginny,_

_Please make sure to thank your brother for all his help. That was very generous of him, regardless of his fear of your wrath. I am truly grateful for this opportunity to start fresh, so I gladly accept! I will fill out the necessary paperwork and send it to the Ministry today._

_Thank you so much for your help! You are truly a great friend. As for the offer to stay with you and Harry I wouldn’t want to intrude. However, my savings will go towards a new flat so I will be in need of a place to stay temporarily. I’m sure Fleur would offer, but with the baby I would be more of an inconvenience._

_I will be giving my notice today and will need a few days to make arrangement, but I should arrive on Saturday,_ _noon_ _at the latest. I am quite excited as well! I’m also nervous, but with friends like you it makes me feel more at ease to make this transition._

_Take care and thank you again!_

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione_

After completing the form and drafting a letter thanking them for their job offer she addressed it to the Ministry. Then she rolled Ginny’s letter, tied it with a string and held both out for the impatient tiny owl to snatch away. She smiled broadly, her heart pounding in her chest, and felt a nervous sense of relief as she watched it bob up and down from the added weight. Then it flew outside, departing in the direction in which it came.

 XXXX

“Oi, Harry!”

Ron picked up the pace of his walking to a jog when he saw the back of his best mate’s head, the messy black hair and slouched shoulders being a dead giveaway.

Harry turned at his name and waved once before stepping to one side of the corridor, letting witches and wizards pass by on their way to the lifts. The majority of the Ministry employees were heading home. Ron for one was happy to finally leave this place, but home was the last place he wanted to be.

“Hey, Ron,” Harry said warily when they met up. He was at least an entire head shorter than Ron, the mop of hair on his head helping give him the illusion of being taller than he actually was, but only slightly. Where Ron was tall with muscle on a thin frame, Harry was stocky with broad shoulders. When they caught up Ron towered over him and he resisted the urge to mess Harry’s hair, knowing it would only annoy him when he needed him in a good mood.

Ron was full to bursting with energy brought on by the end of a mind numbingly boring Friday at his desk writing up forms, filing papers and listening to testimonies to the least stimulating cases he’s had to deal with yet in his three years as an Auror. He loved his career. His partner was his best mate and he felt great satisfaction putting away the worst the world had to offer. But on days like this he would rather be out there in the action than stuck inside writing bloody paperwork. If he wanted to do that he’d have went back to finish his 7th  year of Hogwarts.

Because they didn’t return to school and get their NEWTS, he was grateful to land the career he wanted anyway. He reckoned helping save the whole wizarding world from an evil wizard earned him and Harry some privileges, and he was more than happy to accept them.

He ignored Harry’s rolling eyes as he slapped him on the shoulder, bouncing on his feet and grinning. He was set on convincing Harry to go out tonight because he could already tell he was thinking of drinking some tea and going to bed early. Ron took his role as Harry’s best mate very seriously; After ten years of friendship he could tell when Harry was about to close himself off and risk turning into a hermit crab. It’s happened a few times after the war, and even with his own sister’s help, it was hard as hell to get him back to normal again.

“It’s Friday, mate, cheer up!” he nudged Harry with his elbow. “We deserve to have some fun once in a while.”

“I’m tired, Ron. I just want to go home, eat and sleep. Besides, we go out every week, twice sometimes.” Harry leaned against the wall, dropping his head back and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Come on, Harry,” Ron pleaded and moved to stand in front of him. “Don’t be a crotchety old man already. You didn’t go out last week and you know it. I’ll buy this time. Just a few pints and Ginny can even come. I think I could stand her for one night.”  He chuckled, thinking how Ginny would kick his shin for saying that. Honestly, he loved his sister and enjoyed hanging out with her. She was loud and funny and he saw a lot of him in her, and not only because they shared the trademark Weasley Red-As-Fuck hair. At the mention of Ginny’s name Harry opened his eyes and sighed.

“She did mention doing something tonight…”

Ron clapped his hands once and pointed at Harry. “See? Even she knows you need to get out and have some fun!” He wiggled his brows at Harry and watched the wariness turn to surrender. He clapped Harry on the shoulder again and, now that he no longer had to be polite, rubbed his hand quickly through Harry’s hair.

“Piss off, Ron,” Harry said with a laugh. He may be shorter, but he was definitely stronger than he looked, so with one push he sent Ron backwards into an older witch who smacked her teeth at them.

“Sorry!” Harry yelled after her and groaned. “They hate us here.”

“They do not,” Ron replied and fell into step alongside Harry as they walked toward the lifts again. “You’re Head Auror, Harry. They love us. We are the saviors of the wizarding world and all that.”

Harry, embarrassed, looked around at the remaining people milling about the circular lobby, waiting for the lifts. “You can’t keep saying that, Ron. Jesus, you’re such a prat.”

“Nah, I’m only joking. No one even heard me,’ Ron said and pushed the red button to call their lift. “But you are wrong. Well, they love _you_ at least. Everyone does.”

He meant it as a compliment, but felt the familiar tug of jealousy, because it was true, and they knew it. There was an awkward silence as they waited and Ron tried to act nonchalant, hoping it didn’t show through in his voice.  

He had worked hard over the years to divest himself of his old insecurities. They were a major hindrance while he and Harry were on the run, searching and destroying horcruxes. Harry saw the effect the locket had on him so was let in on all of Ron’s innermost thoughts and fears. It was a turning point in their friendship, one that made them closer, but was also the most embarrassing moment of his life. Since then he knew he didn’t have to hide anything from Harry, but he also wanted to show that he didn’t hold any resentment toward him, that he never blamed him for being The Chosen One. However, even though that was true, he still had moments where the old Ron would creep up and make him feel inferior, mediocre and looked over.

Their lift finally arrived and Ron was thankful Harry hadn’t said anything like ‘Oh, they love you too’, or some mushy shit like that. He’d have to throttle the specky git if he tried.

“I’ll tell Ginny when I get home,” Harry said as they filed in with about ten other people. “I don’t think she had the three of us in mind when she suggested a night out, but I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Ron let out a short laugh. “Yeah, right. She’ll get over it. Just tell her I’m buying. She’ll buy extra just to fuck with me, but that’s alright. I reckon I miss her too… don’t tell her I said that.”

Harry snorted and then apologized to the wizard next to him when Ron pushed him sideways.

>>

Two hours later Ron sat waiting for Harry and Ginny at a muggle pub, getting a head start as he sipped on his lager, eyeing the crowd with what he felt was a casual slouch against the bar.

He had already gone home, taken a shower and dressed in dark jeans, grey shirt, red and blue plaid button down and, since it was November and finally cold enough outside to warrant him wearing it, his black leather jacket. The jacket was a Christmas gift from Charlie, and given that his older brother was infinitely cooler than Ron, he felt it brought him good luck. However, as he thought about his love life lately he wondered if Charlie’s choice to remain single for so long had somehow rubbed off on the jacket…

“Wotcher, Ron!” A hand suddenly slapped the back of his head and he momentarily lost all of his coolness, rubbing his skull and scowling at his sister who slid onto the barstool next to him.

“Remind me, Harry, why I said she could come,’ Ron said as Harry sat next on her other side.

“Are you joking?” Ginny guffawed. “You _let_ me come? Need I remind you that you are interrupting what is supposed to be mine and Harry’s _date_.”

“Sod that,” he said, waving his hand at her. “Harry, what drink would you like?”

“Whatever you got,” Harry said, rubbing his temples. Ron frowned at him and, forgetting to pretend to be annoyed, gave Ginny an inquiring look.

She merely shook her head telling him to forget it and said to the bartender, “I’ll have a pint of your finest ale, please,” flashing a smile at Ron.

“Didn’t I tell you, Harry?” Ron tried again to engage him in conversation.

Harry chuckled and nodded his head at the bartender. “Thanks,” he said when he got his drink and drank half of it at once.

“Oi! I’m not made of galleons, mate! Jesus.”

“It’s been a long week,” Harry said across Ginny who was sipping from her tall mug, trying no to spill it. “Cheers, Ron.”

“Cheers to that, mate,’ Ron said, raising his bottle and draining it. “Get a table, I’ll order more drinks and meet you.”

Moments later, balancing a jug of ale and three mugs in his hands, Ron made his way to the back of the pub where Harry and Ginny sat together on one side of a booth.

“So what’s new in your world, Gin?” Ron asked, pouring himself a drink and settling back against the torn leather cushion.

“Well… I heard there’s an opening for Chaser with the Holyhead Harpies I might try out for.” She shrugged and took a long sip.

“ _Might_ try out? Ginny, you have to.”

“That’s what I told her,’ Harry said and sat up to pour himself a drink. “You have to come over and practice with us, Ron. She’s brilliant.”

“I believe it,” Ron said enthusiastically. “When are tryouts?”

“Next month. It’s not a big deal.”

“Well, let me know. I’ll come and practice with you guys so you’re ready. You’re gonna try out and make it, Gin. No excuses.”

Ginny smirked and shrugged again. “Anyway,” she said, changing the subject. “Ron, do you remember that witch I told you about, the one I had you give her resume to the Minstry? Hermione?”

Ron nodded as he drank and peered out the corner of his eye at a woman who was staring at him from across the pub. “Yeah… I remember.” He cleared his throat and focused back on Ginny. “Did she get the job then? I didn’t play bloody owl for nothing.”

“Very funny. And yes, she did. She arrives tomorrow. Harry and I are letting her stay with us for a bit before she gets settled.”

Ron looked at Harry who nodded then said, “We have an extra bedroom so it’s not a big deal.”

“You barely know her.” He was all for helping Ginny by running papers back and forth, but having someone he doesn’t know live with his best mate and sister made him very uncomfortable.

“Well, I do,” Ginny said. “I’ve met her and she’s lovely. Besides, Fleur has been friends with her for years, so she’s obviously not a criminal. She’s looking for a change and I want to help her.”

Ron narrowed his eyes at Ginny, and noticed Harry sit back with a sigh.

“So, wait. She suddenly wants to move here all the way from France where I’m assuming she already has a decent living… What’s her angle?”

“It’s fine, Ron,” Harry said and leaned on the table. “Look, I wouldn’t let some stranger come live with us if I didn’t think it was safe. Ginny and Fleur trust her, and that’s enough for me to give her a chance.”

“She wants a new life, Ron,” Ginny said, her face turning pink from frustration. “Just because you don’t know her doesn’t automatically turn her into a villain.”

“Right, a new life living with Harry bloody Potter,” Ron scoffed. “How convenient.” He didn’t like this, not one bit. Who decides to uproot their life, a life that seemed just fine, and move far away on a whim, just like that? It smelled suspicious on all counts, and he was surprised Harry didn’t share his doubts.

“It doesn’t matter what you think, Ron, because she’s my friend and I’m going to help her.” Ginny slammed her mug down and stood up. “Thanks for your help, but I don’t need your permission.” Then she stormed off in the direction of the bathrooms.

Ron was taken aback. “The fuck just happened?” He turned to Harry who was rubbing his temples again. “Don’t tell me you agree with her.”

“Ron, I understand why you’re worried, but they really _are_ friends. We just haven’t met her yet. You don’t have to be so damn protective all the time.”

Ron shook his head, feeling as if he were the only one with any sense in the entire room. “Constant vigilance, Harry,” Ron muttered and finished off his drink.

Eventually Ginny returned to the table and sat down, avoiding Ron’s eyes. He tried to apologize, and she waved it off saying to forget it.

“I don’t want you to worry, Ron,” she sighed. “But I also don’t want to be treated as if I don’t have good judgment of character. I’m not eleven…”

Ron gulped and exchanged a glance with Harry. “I didn’t mean to say you don’t… I’m sorry. I do trust you.”

He felt awful, remembering how Riddle’s diary tricked her into trusting it and how she told it everything. He knew she was under the control of the diary, and never once blamed her for opening the Chamber of Secrets. But he knew, and from talking to Harry, that she partially blamed herself.

“Look,’ he said. “I’ll come over tomorrow and meet her. I’m sure she’s fine and I’m overreacting. I just get-“

“Pig headed? Overprotective? Git-like?”

Ron snorted. “Yeah, all those things.”

There was pause and then, “I have a headache.”

Harry’s flat tone made Ginny and Ron turned to him simultaneously, and after a second they all started laughing. Harry groaned and put his head on the table.

“I think it’s time we head home,” Ginny said, pulling on Harry’s arm. “Thanks for the drinks, Ron. Come over whenever tomorrow.”

“Do you need any help?” He directed the question at Ginny, hoping she knew what he meant.

“No,” she said as Harry stood next to her, looking ready to bolt. She smirked at Ron and added, “Just try to remember the name of the girl you pull tonight. I hear they like that kind of thing.”

He grinned and rolled his eyes. “Right, whatever.” He stood and slapped Harry on the shoulder. “Thanks for coming out. Get some rest and I’ll see you tomorrow. We can have a fly and help Ginny practice.”

“Sounds good,” Harry said, smiling. He looked pale, but Ron figured he was just tired. Now he felt bad for forcing him to come out. He told him as much, but Harry shook his head. “It’s fine. Like I said, rough week.”

Ron nodded, even though he didn’t entirely buy the excuse, but watched the two most important people in his life leave with a heaviness in his gut that he couldn’t quite explain. Was it instinct? Bad shrimp at lunch?

“Is this seat taken?”

He turned to see the fit blonde woman who had been eyeing him earlier. She looked about his age, and was staring up at him through long black lashes and a smile was playing on her lips. He smiled back at her. He could read that look, and knew what she was really asking. Somehow he had gained a reputation as a ‘player’ from his friends and family, mostly due to the fact that he had become quite adept at talking to females; he enjoyed the flirting and getting to know them, but the truth was, despite his encounters, he never felt anything past physical attraction or friendship, and more often than not nothing more than snogging or heavy petting took place. He was habitually single, and often wondered if he’d stay that way…

“No,” Ron said with a sigh, not up for the game tonight, and too worried about Harry and this mystery woman set on infiltrating his inner circle. “It’s all yours.”

He then made his way out the door, walked to an empty alley and Disapparated back home to an empty flat and bed.


	2. Accommodation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I want to thank TMBlue for helping me finish this chapter. Not only does she offer her impeccable writing skills to fix my grammar and typos, but also fantastic insights into Ron and Hermione’s characters and encouragement to keep writing. Just in case, for some insane reason, you haven’t yet, go read her stories. They’re amazing! (ahem! Riches ahem!)  
> This story is an experiment for me, a way to challenge myself. We all know the end game, but it’s the happenings in between that are going to be the most fun to write and, hopefully, read.
> 
> Rated M for later chapters
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter.

Chapter 2: Accommodation

The Weird Sisters’ latest single blared out mid-song at the highest volume, waking Ron up from a deep sleep so suddenly that he sat up like a spring, reflexively swinging his arm toward the radio. The momentum of his awakening, and the twisting of his body caused him to fall out of bed, blankets to tangle around his legs, and his elbow to smash into the nightstand. He then rolled over on the floor to avoid the radio hitting his head when it fell to the floor. Unfortunately, it didn’t break as the music was now screaming into his right ear.

Groaning and rubbing his elbow, he scrambled for his wand from underneath his pillow and tapped the radio. Silence. He dropped back down to the floor with a sigh and a forearm over his eyes, shielding them from the offensively bright sun as his heartbeat slowed to a more normal rate. Since he knew from prior experience that going back to sleep would be a waste of time, he kicked the covers off his legs and got to his feet. He picked up the radio and put it back on the nightstand, then paused to turn it off, making a mental note to turn it back on tomorrow so he wouldn’t be late for work on Monday… again.

Still half asleep and irritable from the rude wake up call, Ron trudged across his bedroom, side-stepping boots and dirty socks, the clothes he had taken off the night before, a pile of pamphlets and papers, another pile of clothes, and pushed aside a partially opened box of chocolate frogs. He scratched his bare back as he entered the loo, and left the door open as he relieved himself.

As he brushed his teeth, he looked in the mirror at his reflection: a head that looked scarily similar to a ball of fire, the glaze of sleepiness in his eyes complete with crust in the corners, and toothpaste foaming out of his mouth.

“A real ladies man,” he said out loud, spattering the mirror with flecks of toothpaste. Chuckling and shaking his head, he rinsed out his mouth and splashed water on his face.

Barely clothed in only his underwear, Ron made his way back through the messy room and into the kitchen, which was right through his bedroom door. He set about making coffee, feeling like he needed something stronger than tea today. He took out a pan and cracked three eggs into it, scrambling them together until they resembled something edible. He’d go out onto the balcony, but it was getting cooler as winter approached and he didn’t feel like getting dressed. So he ate at the counter, sipping his coffee and staring out the large window over the sink, admiring the view that sold him the flat eight months ago. He lived on the tenth story, so he had the advantage of looking out over the tops of trees and buildings, with massive hills in the far distance and the sky so big and close up. Being able to see such a wide expanse of the world humbled him- made him feel like he was part of something bigger than the bubble of family, friends, and work.

Feeling more awake with food and coffee in his belly, Ron flicked his wand to get the dishes washing, then turned around and walked the few steps to his living room. In the remaining space of his small flat there was a long plush sofa that served as a bed when he was too lazy or pissed to walk the extra steps to his bedroom; a desk littered with parchment, quills and a lamp; a few paintings on the walls; and a work bench with a set of weights that only just fit into the corner of the room, but it was enough for him to get a good work out, which is what he did that morning.

As an Auror under Harry’s regime he was expected to maintain his strength, flexibility and stamina. Harry said their job was more than just wandwork- they needed to be agile and quick, and able to throw a punch just as much as stunning someone. Ron and Harry often went to a muggle gym to avoid people gawking at them, but he preferred to do the bulk of his sweating and grunting at home.

After a half hour of working up a good sweat, and with his muscles burning, he wiped his brow and made the short walk back to the loo. There he shaved his face clean of stubble, and then took a long shower. Nothing felt better to Ron than getting under a pounding stream of hot water after working out. He’d stand there, stretching his back and rolling his neck, and sigh through the relief before washing himself and scrubbing his hair. He thought about having a wank that morning, but decided against it and instead got out, wrapped a towel around his waist, and managed to placate his hair.

He took a moment to study himself in the mirror again, flexing his arms and puffing out his chest, checking his teeth and wiggling his eyebrows… He was relieved to have finally grown out of that lanky boyish phase, but didn’t think he was anywhere close to being as fit as his older brothers. He shrugged, deciding that he at least looked slightly less tragic than he did earlier. Then he sighed and rolled his eyes, feeling embarrassed even though he was alone.

Vacating the loo and his overly freckled reflection, he stood in front of the closet, looking for something to wear. He took the damp towel off from around his waist and tossed it behind him on the bed, then pulled on clean underwear and socks.

He remembered he was supposed to go to Harry and Ginny’s house and meet this Hermione person. He wasn’t looking forward to it, thinking back to last night and Ginny’s reaction to him merely suggesting caution. He still didn’t understand why this girl couldn’t find somewhere else to live, or what her intentions were, but he was determined to find out.

He had just grabbed a black jumper and a pair of jeans from the closet when a loud knock sounded from his front door. He dressed quickly as he tripped his way through the room, his arm just pulling through the jumper when he opened the door.

“Hey… you’re awake,” Harry said, looking confused as he took in Ron’s attire and obviously clean and awake appearance. Then he grinned. “Alarm again?”

“You guessed it,” Ron replied as Harry came in, and then closed the door. “What are you doing here? I’m supposed to go to yours in a few hours.”

Harry walked to the kitchen and grabbed a mug, filling it with the rest of the coffee. “I know. Can’t I visit my best mate on a Saturday morning?”

“Not with that weird look on your face, no you can’t,” Ron said, narrowing his eyes as Harry sipped his coffee and avoided Ron’s eyes. “Is this about last night, why you’ve been so ‘tired’ lately?” He sat on the sofa and watched as Harry came to sit on the other end, setting his mug on his knee.

“No, I told you I had a headache,” Harry answered.

“Bollocks. Is it happening again? The nightmares and shit?”

Harry rolled his eyes and Ron regretted sounding so harsh, but he didn’t know how else to ask. He had to be up front with Harry or else he’d dodge the issue, just like before…

“You know as well as I do that that ‘shit’ doesn’t just go away.”

“Yeah, but-“

“That’s not why I’m here. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. Really.”

Harry took another sip and shifted uncomfortably. Ron wanted to persist, but knowing Harry that would just start a row and he’d end up more closed off than he was right now. He knew when to back off; if Harry wanted to talk he knew where Ron was.

“So what did you want to talk about?” Ron asked, pushing the matter to the back of his mind. He summoned a bag of crisps from the cupboard and started eating them, waiting.

Harry sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose, looking at Ron with that serious I-mean-business face.

“This is about last night, but about what Ginny told you.”

“About what’s-her-name living with you guys?”

“Hermione, yes. I want to make sure when you come over you’re not gonna get all intense and act like-“

“A complete wanker arsehole?”

“More or less.”

“Well, you can tell Ginny I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Ginny didn’t ask me to come,” Harry said, offended. “I just want peace, that’s all. Just… try to be nice.”

“I’m always nice!”

“Yeah, but not when you’re suspicious. I’ve seen you interrogate, Ron. You can be right scary.”

“That’s with criminal suspects. This girl, I don’t know her and yeah, I’m gonna ask her stuff, but I do have manners. Fucking hell, you two act like I’m a mental case or something.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“…Fine. Alright. I’ll be nice.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Harry exhaled loudly and leaned back on the sofa, and Ron offered him something to eat. He summoned another bag of crisps and threw it at Harry who caught it and swiftly opened it. They sat on the sofa for a while in comfortable silence eating crisps, however the conversation they just had rolled around in Ron’s mind; there had to be a solution besides him just being nice, because if he were being honest he didn’t think he could sit there and have lunch with someone he was wary of and maintain enough politeness to appease everyone. He was never very good at hiding his feelings. He racked his brain and then suddenly sat up, making Harry jump in his seat.

“What is it?” he asked Ron, looking around the flat.

“I think I got it! A way to know for sure!” He stood up, threw the empty crisps bag on the sofa and went to his desk. As he rummaged around in the drawers Harry came to stand beside him.

“What the hell are you on about?”

“Ha! Here it is,” Ron held up a white jar with a purple lid, and a label that read “NO FOE” in large print, and scrawled underneath was handwritten “Plus”.

“What the hell is that?”

“No Foe, but… altered a bit.”

“Okay… what the hell is No Foe?”

“It’s something George sells in the shop.” He opened the lid and showed the contents to Harry. Inside was a translucent goopy lotion with flecks of blue shiny bits. Harry curled his nose and shook his head.

“It stinks.”

“Right, well that’ll be the plus, then. The original doesn’t have the blue stuff in it.”

“Can you just tell me what is happening right now?” Harry asked impatiently, pushing the jar away from his face.

Ron replaced the lid and said, “So the original No Foe is something you can use to tell if someone likes you or not. You put the stuff on your hand and it disappears, but for 24 hours whenever you shake someone’s hand you’ll be able to tell if that person-“

“-is a foe. Got it. How does it work?”

“I’m getting to that. So when you shake the hand of someone who doesn’t like you, of a foe, then your hand turns cold. If they’re a friend there’s no change.”

“And if they like you as more than a friend?”

“Then it warms up. I know it’s stupid, and kind of a gimicky, but it works.”

“Alright, so is there a degree to the coldness or heat? Can your hand turn to ice or, I dunno, melt our skin?” Harry was looking skeptical, but Ron rushed on to get to his point.

“No, the product George sells is just one level either way. But this,” he shook the jar and quirked an eyebrow at Harry, “is different. George and I worked together on advancing the product so we can use it for work. Imagine being undercover and having an advantage of knowing if the person trusts you or not?”

Harry’s eyes widened and Ron could tell he was interested. “I admit it does sound useful… But I don’t see it being foolproof, or safe. Or even ethical… But you said this was different.”

“Yeah, I thought about that, but, like you said, it could be dead useful. Right, so the colder your hand gets the worse their intentions. Nothing turns to ice or catches fire. Say, if you use it on Ginny- nevermind. Forget I said that. You get the idea.”

Ron shuddered visibly, but Harry ignored him and took the jar back, opening it. He sniffed again, wrinkling his nose, and said, “So it’s safe? Are you sure?”

“Positive. It’s still new so that’s only one of two jars. I was going to show you on Monday, but I think we can test it out today.”

Harry’s eyebrows lowered and he squinted at Ron. “Today?”

“Yeah, with Hermione! We have to shake hands when we meet, right? I’ll know right away if we should trust her or not.”

“But Ginny already trusts her, and Fleur. You don’t-“

“Yes, I do.” He looked steadily at Harry because he didn’t know how else to explain this need to either justify or nullify his suspicions.

Harry sighed and looked down at the substance. He poked it and rubbed it between his fingers. “You said it lasts 24 hours?”

“The original stuff does. This only lasts about ten, give or take.”

“Alright, I’m curious. I trust you, but it still feels a bit weird…” He sighed and Ron knew he had him. “So, here’s the deal. I’m going to meet her first so I’ll test it out. When you come later you can do the same. I’m sure this isn’t necessary, but if it’ll ease your mind, and it’s safe then… fine. Let’s do it.”

“Cheers, Harry,” Ron said happily and clapped him on the shoulder. “All you need is a little bit and rub it all over your hand, like that.”

“Is it supposed to tingle like that?”

“Um…”

“Ron!”

“I’m kidding! It’s normal!”

Harry thrust the jar back to Ron and continued rubbing his hand until it was dry. “This is kind of brilliant,” he said with a slight grin.

“I told you,” Ron replied, grinning cockily. “I have the best ideas.”

“Let’s not get carried away.”

They laughed and Ron rubbed some of the No Foe Plus on his own hand, feeling it tingle then watching it disappear. Then he held his hand out and Harry grabbed it, shaking it firmly. Ron didn’t feel any difference in temperature, and Harry sighed.

“That just means you don’t want to kill or shag me,” Ron explained, letting go of Harry’s hand.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Harry said and they both chuckled. “Right,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I should get going. I have to do a bunch of errands and pick up lunch later.”

“I can help pay for it if you want,” Ron offered, already turning to get his wallet.

“No, don’t be stupid. I got it,” Harry said, moving toward the door. “Besides, if this stuff works like you said you got a promotion coming your way. Then you can pay for breakfast, lunch, dinner and pudding.” He smiled wide as he pulled the door open. “See you later!”

Ron waved as the door shut, then plopped down on the sofa, picked up Harry’s half empty bag of crisps and finished it off, grinning to himself. It wasn’t often he felt proud of something he’d done, and he had George to thank for it. Thinking of George made him want to visit and tell him Harry’s reaction. He still had time before lunch so he got up, put on his boots and jacket, grabbed his wand and wallet, then left to give George the good news.

XXXXX

Hermione stood in the middle of her bare soon-to-be former living room, clutching a single black sock tightly in her fist that was clasped by her other hand, both of which were held firmly at her chest. She took a deep breath and told her herself to remain calm. This is what she wanted.

When she told her coworkers she was leaving they were shocked. They tried to hide it, but she knew most of them resented her, thinking she didn’t deserve that level of power in a field they had been working in for so many years. But she didn’t have to worry about that anymore: the sideways glances and rolling eyes behind her back. She could start over with new people and hopefully this time not gain a reputation as a “dictator” just because she preferred to have things done correctly and on time.

In the past few days she had closed her bank account, sold her flat, shrunk down her furniture and packed everything in a canvas tote bag along with all of her clothing and books using an undetectable extension charm. The bag hung on her shoulder and there was nothing else to do but wait. She had turned the sock that was currently in her hand into a portkey that would take her to King’s Cross Station where she would meet Ginny. From there they would Disapparate to her friend’s house. After that, well, all she knew was her new job started in two days… and that was it.

She had no idea exactly what she would be doing in her new position, where she would live (she didn’t want to overstay her welcome at Ginny and Harry’s house), or how the rest of her life would turn out. She didn’t even know what she was having for lunch today.

As someone who scheduled almost every minute of her life, all of these up-in-the-air unprepared plans made her head spin. But even with the trepidation beating against her instincts, she knew she was doing the right thing. She couldn’t place the feeling, but it was very much close to a fate that she didn’t understand; something inevitable that she couldn’t fight any longer.

With the adrenaline from quitting her job, packing her things, and ultimately flipping her world upside down, fueling her already hyperactive drive, she couldn’t help but feel simultaneously energized and scared out of her wits.

The sock started to tremble in her hand, jolting her from her thoughts. She gripped it harder than was necessary as she waited with bated breath for it to take her from this cold empty world and into a newer brighter one filled with implied promises.

XXXXX

“Hermione!”

As soon as she stepped out from the bathroom in which she had Apparated, Ginny’s unmistakable voice rose above the din of the train station, over the massive crowd of travelers pushing trollies and running to catch their train. She picked this location as it was a familiar place for the both of them. Her parents had wanted to meet her after she sent a letter stating her plans, but she declined. She would see them the next day, but today she was too anxious to be asked the many questions she knew they were waiting to ask about her supposedly abrupt alteration to her carefully planned life.

“Ginny!” she called out, waving her hand and watching as the top of Ginny’s red head weaved in and out of the mass of people toward her. Then she was engulfed in a fierce hug that almost threw Hermione off her feet.

“Finally, come on,” Ginny said with a smile then started walking toward the exit as she talked over her shoulder. “Did anyone see you arrive? I mean, talk about picking the busiest muggle location there ever was.”

Hermione let herself be led, amused at Ginny’s enthusiasm and distracted by her energy.

“No, I had set up to arrive in a stall I knew had been out of order for years when I was a child. I’m lucky they never fixed it.”

“You do know everything, don’t you? Or you’re just really lucky,” Ginny laughed. They were suddenly outside and Hermione stopped in her tracks, making Ginny skid to a stop beside her.  “What is it?”

“I just… want to take a moment.”

“Oh, right. Sorry,” Ginny sighed and tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear and gazed around her. “It is lovely.”

“Yeah,” Hermione said and took a deep breath. The buildings and pace of people walking the streets were all familiar to her. It had been ages since she had visited, but a surge of warmth filled her just then. It felt like home. “Okay, I’m ready. Lead the way, Ginny,” she said with a tremor in her voice, and when she met Ginny’s face both of them smiled broadly and practically ran to the next empty alleyway. She took Ginny’s arm in her hand and immediately felt a twist in her belly, pulling her up and around and then down again, her feet landing on soft grass.

“Here we are,” Ginny announced. “Sorry I was rushing. I wanted to get here before Harry came back. He’s out getting lunch and I wanted to show you around.”

“It’s beautiful,” Hermione breathed, shielding her eyes with her hand as she looked up at the cottage in front of her. It wasn’t very big; with only one floor it stood on a large piece of land that surrounded the house on all sides, except one long road that led to what looked like infinity. However, framing the property were acres and acres of forest.

The house was built with stone bricks, windows flanked by bright green shutters, and a large red door. Flowers and bushes and various other plants cascaded from around the house, filtering to the sides of the stone walkway leading to the front porch that wrapped around the entire house.

“Thanks,” Ginny said, beaming. Her freckled cheeks bloomed pink from Hermione’s expression and she wondered if she got many visitors. “My mum helped with the gardening, and I admit I took a liking to it,” she said as she led the way up the walk.

“Well, you both did a wonderful job,” Hermione said, reaching down to run her fingers through a particular plant whose long thin leaves grazed her legs as she passed.

Ginny waved her wand over the door and muttered a few words before tapping it two times and twisting the knob. “Remind me to show you the password later. Harry’s a bit… particular about his protective spells.”

Hermione nodded as she followed her through across the threshold. “I completely understand. If I were him I would be as well.”

“Right, of course,” Ginny chuckled. “But seriously, it is very important. Only a few other people know it and can show up when they please.”

“You must have really sold me to him, then,” Hermione said, looking around the cozy living room that was open to the kitchen and dining room. “Are you sure it’s alright that I stay here? It won’t be for long, like I said-“

“I’m sure,” Ginny said quickly, waving her hand and taking off her jacket, throwing it to land perfectly on a wall hook by the door. Hermione did the same, albeit more carefully.

The apprehension she felt earlier was coming back after learning just how cautious Harry and Ginny lived out here in the middle of nowhere. She wasn’t sure how Ginny got Harry to agree to this, but she imagined he’d be wary of any visitor, especially someone he had never met before. As a person who just left a job in journalism she was up to date about the situation surrounding Harry Potter, what he did only three years ago, and some of his past endeavors. Of course she didn’t know any personal details, nor was she here to gain any of that information; she was inquisitive, not stupid. But this was the Harry Potter; suddenly she was worried that she hadn’t adequately prepared for this meeting.

“Where did you say he was again?”

Ginny must have heard it in her voice because she turned and smirked at Hermione. “Don’t be nervous. It’s only Harry. I didn’t think you were the type to get all turned around by a ‘celebrity’.” Her smile was starting to fade so Hermione shook her head.

“Oh, I’m not! I’m just not sure… have you told him everything about me? What I did for a living?”

Ginny rolled her eyes and said, “Yes, and I told you it’s fine. Harry’s not as hard-ass as people think. Yeah, he defeated Voldemort, and has his down moments, but he’s also loyal and loves his friends like they’re family. And you are one of them now, by extension of course.” She smiled again and wrapped an arm around Hermione’s shoulder. “Now relax and let me show you around.”

Hermione tried to do just that as Ginny steered her in the direction of an archway that led to more rooms, pointing out different things on the way.

“This here is the living room, obviously.” She threw her arm out wide to cover an area with two posh modern looking grey sofas facing one another and a glass coffee table sat on top of a plush white rug. A faded high-backed armchair faced an enormous white stone fireplace that dominated the wall between the sofas, with numerous framed moving photos littering the mantle. Hardwood floors ran throughout the entire house that felt and looked much bigger than it did from outside. Hermione detected magic was at work to accommodate for the size.

“There’s the kitchen; help yourself to anything you like, there’s plenty of food. We can take a trip to the market later if you want to get anything specific, but like I said, Harry will be here soon with lunch. I hope you like fish and chips?”

“Yes, very much, thank you,” Hermione said politely, feeling overwhelmed by so much at once. But Ginny was so welcoming and practically bouncing with excitement of having her as a roommate that she couldn’t help but catch some of her happiness. “You have a beautiful home, really.”

“We got almost everything as soon as we moved in. Harry wanted everything new. Well, except that armchair. It was his godfather, Sirius’…”

Hermione looked again at the armchair that faced the fireplace and remembered reading and editing an article about the infamous fugitive turned famous dead hero that turned out to be Harry’s long lost godfather. This man she had only read and written about on paper was being brought to life before her eyes.

“He must have really loved him.”

“He did… I was there when it happened. I didn’t see, but I saw Harry afterwards… and so much has happened since then…” Ginny smiled sadly then cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said and touched Ginny’s arm.

“It’s alright,” she smiled in reply and shrugged, then beckoned for her to follow. To the left of the open living space was an archway into a long hallway with four doors. “The one right across the entryway is the loo. We have one in our bedroom so this is the one you’ll use. To the right are mine and Harry’s bedroom and office. To the left is your room.” She opened the door to a small bright room that was decorated in all white with light blue curtains and pillows. A tall wardrobe stood facing the double bed and a door that Hermione assumed was a closet was to the right. However, what pulled her attention were three large paintings on separate walls, scenes of people in random and candid poses. They didn’t move, and looked as if caught in the middle of everyday life, but with a brightness that almost took Hermione’s breath away.

“Did you do these?” Hermione turned to Ginny with wide eyes.

“Yeah,” Ginny said with a blush. “I like taking photos of people when we’re out, without them noticing. Nothing creepy, but more like normal stuff. Then I thought I’d paint the photos and change them a bit, with a new life I guess. I dunno. I stuck these in here, but I have more in the garage out back.”

“I would love to see them,” Hermione said enthusiastically and turned to gaze at one with a little girl eating an ice cream cone and holding her mum’s hand who was busy talking to a vendor. It was so simple, but it touched Hermione and she wasn’t sure why. “I had no idea. You’re very talented, Ginny.”

“Thanks,” she said and smiled to herself. “Harry says he likes them and even offered to ask around galleries for a showing. Can you imagine? I’m not an artist. It’s just a hobby.”

Hermione was about to tell her she agreed with Harry, but Ginny was already opening the closet door and she figured she’d bring it up later.

“You can hang your things in here. I hope there’s enough room. You said you had a lot of books. There’s a shelf in the wardrobe you can use.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she said, almost laughing out loud, thinking of the mountain of books she carried on her shoulder that could probably fill this room. She placed her bag on the bed and patted it. “I have all my things in here so if I need anything I can just summon it.”

“Very clever,” Ginny mused.

The sound of the front door opening and slamming shut made them both look toward the door and back at each other.

“Ginny! I’m back!”

At the sound of him calling her name Ginny’s demeanor changed from ecstatic and bubbly to relaxed and Hermione swore she saw her sigh with relief.

“That’ll be Harry Potter,” she said to Hermione with a cheeky smile and raised eyebrows. “Come on, let’s eat. I’m starving.”

Hermione left the room after Ginny and walked in on them hugging and Ginny whispering something into his ear.

“Hello,” Harry’s face brightened when he saw Hermione standing under the archway. There was Harry Potter in person; unruly black hair, circle-shaped spectacles, and the scar…

He squeezed Ginny’s hand and they smiled at each other, and Hermione felt like she was intruding before he walked over to Hermione. He held out his hand, which she shook firmly, straightening her back and attempting to appear as friendly and casual as possible.

He was shaking her hand and all she could think about was the sacrifices he had made, how much he had lost since he was a baby, the terrible things he had gone through. Yet he was smiling and even though she sensed sadness behind his bright green eyes that she assumed had always been there, nowhere in his expression did she read an ounce of smugness or entitlement. She was taken aback by how immediately she was taken by him, but in a way that felt almost… familiar. She smiled, thinking he had that effect on everyone he met; he must be that humble of a person.

“Hello… you’re Harry Potter,” she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth, and she could have chopped her foot off right then and there and promptly stuffed it into her mouth. Her face felt hot when Harry’s smile changed from friendly to amused.

“Last I checked,” he replied and took his hand away since she hadn’t let go yet. She groaned and he chuckled, speaking before she could stuff the other foot in with the first. “Are you hungry? Sorry I was so late. I was at Ron’s trying to get him going.” He put a hand on her shoulder briefly then walked to the kitchen to gather plates and utensils.

Ginny caught her eye when Harry’s back was turned and winked at her, as if telling her she needn’t have worried so much.

“I am quite famished,” Hermione said, shaking off the shock and awe, and internally reprimanding herself for acting like a nitwit. She sat in one of the six seats at the table and smoothed down her jumper. “I was so busy this morning I had forgotten to eat breakfast.”

“I guess that means we don’t have to worry about you eating us out of house and home then,” Harry said with a laugh as he placed 4 glasses on the table and sat down across from Hermione.

“Harry!” Ginny smacked him on the shoulder and sat down next to Hermione, pulling a plate off the stack and handing her one, then Harry and herself. “I was just telling Hermione how friendly and wonderful you are. You spend too much time with Ron, I swear.”

Hermione laughed along with them, unsure of the context. She did, of course, know who Ron Weasley was, him being the other half of The Duo and Harry’s best mate for ten years. He was an integral part of winning the war and was Harry’s partner in the Auror Department. Aside from that Hermione didn’t know much else about him other than the photos in various newspapers, including her own. The image of his face came to her mind and she found herself blushing at the thought of meeting him in person, in only a few moments.

“Should we wait for your brother before we eat?” she asked, watching them pile food onto their plates. It felt rude to start eating when other guests hadn’t arrived yet.  

Harry laughed, shaking his head, and Ginny said, “No, it’s only Ron. It’s his own fault he’s late. Take what you want, there’s plenty. He should be here soon.” She exchanged a glance with Harry, but Hermione couldn’t tell what it was about. She wondered if there was something she should know, but her hunger won out and she decided to eat, hoping that would calm her nerves.

Harry was just telling her that she would be accompanying him to work on Monday, since she had never been to the Ministry before, when the front door opened. From her place at the table she could only see the door as it stayed open for a moment, then a tall figure with hair as red as Ginny’s stepped through and banged it shut behind him.

“Finally! Get your arse in here!” Ginny yelled toward the door and rolled her eyes. Harry stood up when he saw Ron arrive, and before Hermione could introduce herself he opened the door and pushed Ron outside, closing the door behind them.

“What the hell was that about?” Ginny asked out loud. Hermione shrugged, feeling out of place and anxious by the second. She watched as Ginny stood up and walked to the door. But it opened before she could reach it and both Harry and Ron came back inside to Ginny glaring at them.

“Sorry, I had to, er, tell him something quick before I forgot. Work stuff,” Harry said, and even Hermione knew that was a lame excuse. She couldn’t help but think that that strange moment was about her. She stood up as well, feeling awkward being the only one sitting, and walked over to them, smoothing her hair back and feeling if her plait was still intact.

Her first thought when she saw Ron up close was how overwhelming his entire… being was. Pictures didn’t do him justice: his hair was incredibly bright, lighter than Ginny’s, and reminded Hermione of a sunrise… or sunset – she couldn’t decide. He was much taller in person and she imagined if she were to get close enough the top of her head would only reach his shoulder. He had big hands, big feet, a massive amount of freckles over his long nose and pale cheeks, piercing blue eyes, full pink lips, and long blonde lashes. It seemed every part of him was extreme and so very… significant that he made her feel small in comparison. But she was determined not to let that interfere with a good first impression. She had already mucked up with Harry, and she didn’t want a repeat performance.

“This is Hermione,” Ginny said when Hermione reached them. “Hermione, this is Ron, my prat of a brother.”

“Whom you love to bits,” Ron said with a smirk toward Ginny. Then he turned his eyes to Hermione. “Ah, the elusive Hermione. It’s so nice to meet you,” he said. His tone was friendly, but she felt like he was putting on an act. However, she didn’t know him well enough to know the difference, so she assumed this was his way of being humorous.

“You are correct. Nice to meet you, too.” She smiled brilliantly and stuck her hand out, attempting to be as polite as possible to dissipate his obvious apprehension. “Thank you so much for your help, you know, with the job and all.” She noticed his eyes darken and he hesitated before grabbing her hand in his, gripping it harder than she had anticipated. She faltered for a second then gripped it even harder back; her defenses suddenly up around her. It was then she realized: he didn’t trust her. Yet for some reason she was intrigued by him. Maybe even a bit… attracted? Which was understandable as he was a handsome man, so it was perfectly logical to find him attractive, wasn’t it?

“You’re very welcome,” he said and cocked his head to the side, his smile twitching on his unreadable face.

She was determined not to be the one to let go of the handshake that was becoming sweaty under her palm. He was studying her, his eyes roaming over her features. She felt the warmth spread from her hand up her arm and into her chest. When she started to feel flustered under his scrutiny and her heart began pounding she yanked her hand back, clearing her throat.

The handshake only lasted for a few seconds, and she doubted Harry or Ginny noticed the quiet exchange, but when he raised one of his brows, questioning her silently, she refused to meet his stare. She was angry at herself for not knowing whether to be offended or… something else…

Harry pushed Ron playfully, telling him to come and eat. As soon as Ron was out of her line of sight Hermione felt a chill run down her spine that wasn’t unpleasant, but worried her nonetheless.

Ginny sighed heavily, watching Harry and Ron walk away, then turned to Hermione. She must have noticed Hermione’s uneasiness because she nudged her and whispered, “I told you he was a prat.” Then she smiled reassuringly. “Honestly, he’s just an overprotective big brother, so don’t worry if he acts like one. But I wouldn’t be offended if you decided to hex him at any point.”

Hermione laughed along with Ginny, but, now more than ever, she wondered if she made the right decision. Watching them talk and interact as she stood on the sidelines, it was as if she had accidentally disrupted something intimate, as if she were prying into this already established inner circle where they all knew one another’s ticks and humor.

But then Ginny called her over and she shook it out, reminding herself that  she was invited, and she was Hermione: intelligent, strong-minded and confident. She was determined to fit in, no matter what. She rolled her shoulders, walked back to the table and sat back down. But even in her most resolute state of mind she was relieved that Ron wasn’t directly in front of her- far enough away from his calculated looks and that indecipherable impression he had on her.

XXXXX

Thank you for reading!

 


	3. Interrogation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to another installment of Jes Tries to Write AU! 
> 
> In this chapter, Ron and Hermione have their first real conversation… if you can call it that…
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter.

Chapter 3: Interrogation

“Well, that was awkward,” Harry muttered once he and Ron were out of earshot from Ginny and Hermione. He took a seat and Ron sat next to him, silent and thoughtful, which prompted Harry to ask, “What’s the matter? Did your hand- was it cold?”

“No,” Ron whispered. “It was-“

Just then Ginny sat down and Ron shut up, gesturing for Harry to do the same. Then Hermione sat across from Harry and he busied himself by piling as much food onto his plate that he could fit, simultaneously watching her out of the corner of his eye.

He had hadn’t paid much attention to any details about her during their initial meeting. But now he was able to study her, and realized she was actually… beautiful. She had a heart-shaped face with a small nose; a full bottom lip that she had a habit of biting and raking her teeth across at least three times every other minute; a handful of freckles on rounded cheeks, and a tiny scar on her narrow chin. Her hair, slightly frizzy and intensely curly, was contained by a plait going down her back. Everything about her, including her posture and speech, were evidence of a proper upbringing and a posh life.

But her eyes – the color of chocolate and a bit too large for her small face –were so open and warm, and gave the impression that, if he let her, she’d soak him in, and learn everything about him in one sitting. He thought he had noticed a spark of attraction as his hand grew warmer, which he appreciated, of course, and had even quirked an eyebrow at her to see her reaction. But then warm turned to hot, and hot to a burning sensation that even he couldn’t stand. Before he could give himself away by reacting to the heat, she had wrenched her hand back at that exact moment, and her expression changed from enchanted to apprehension- all of that in the space of only a few seconds.

Her eyes flickered for half a second in his direction. She stiffened, brushed a hand over the side of her hair and tucked a loose curl behind her ear, and he became mesmerized by her, as if she were some kind of enigma that had lodged itself into his brain and wouldn’t let go. But he didn’t relent in maintaining his gaze; he was making her uncomfortable, and found a certain satisfaction in it.

 _Good_ , _let_ _her squirm a little_.

Ron nodded along when Harry told him that Hermione was going into work with him Monday morning. He stuffed food into his mouth so he wouldn’t have to participate in the conversation about the layout of The Ministry. He avoided talking because, throughout the meal, he continued staring at Hermione, trying to figure out what the hell she was playing at.

“I don’t even know what they’ll have me do,” Hermione was saying, looking down at her plate, actively avoiding Ron’s stare.

“Then why did you take the job?” Ron found himself speaking up, no longer able to stay quiet, or calm, or any of the things his brain (and Ginny’s glare) was screaming at him to do.

“Pardon?” Hermione finally met his eyes and seemed shocked to hear him speak.

“I mean,” he said, grabbing a napkin and wiping his mouth. “Why take a job you know nothing about in a country you haven’t been in for years? Seems a bit abrupt, don’t you think?”

“Ron,” Ginny groaned, but stopped when Hermione put a hand on her arm.

“That is a fair question,” Hermione said unworriedly, then looked at Ron with a polite smile. “You have every right to be wary of me. To be honest, I am just as nervous as you are suspicious.” She laughed to herself and Ron tried not to be derailed by her attempt at modesty. “It wasn’t an easy, or last minute, decision. I wanted something different for my life. I was… bored.”

“Bored? So you thought living with Harry Potter ought to liven things up a bit?”

“Ron!” Ginny smacked her hand on the table.

“No, that is not at _all_ what I meant,” Hermione gasped with wide eyes as she looked from Harry to Ginny. “I was safe and secure in my job, yes, but I wanted more purpose in my life than reporting news.”

“News about us, you mean?” Ron tried not to sound rude, but Harry’s throat clearing next to him was an obvious sign that he was flanking on ‘not nice’ territory. “Sorry, but-“

“No, that’s fine. I get it,” she interrupted and smoothed a hand over her hair again. “I suppose coming from a journalist background seems a bit convenient in this situation, but I don’t intend on asking for more information, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“So you want to save magical creatures?” he asked in an attempt to change the subject, trying and failing to hide the doubt in his voice. Harry muttered something under his breath, but Ron ignored him. Sure, maybe she wasn’t there to dig up dirt on them, but he still felt there was something he was missing, especially after that strange incident with the handshake…

“For a start, yes.” She leaned forward on the table, imitating Ron’s posture and tone of voice.

“And you’re willing to get paid less than you were as a big shot newspaper writer?” He cocked his head to the side, and she did the same. He was starting to become annoyed, and the harder she stared back the more wound up be became.

“Actually, I was Senior Editor, to be exact,” she replied with a sniff and a roll of her big brown eyes.” And I don’t care about money.” She waved a hand dismissively, and Ron was taken aback by such a statement, especially spoken so indifferently.

He rolled his eyes, mocking her. “Oh, well! Must be nice…”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Hermione started, and Ron was about to interrupt with another question when Harry stood up abruptly and tugged on Ron’s sleeve.

“Er, Ron,” he said through gritted teeth, “Come with me, yeah? _Now_?”

He looked up at Harry’s annoyed face staring down at him, and knew he had crossed the line. He got caught up in their exchange; she was so ready and willing to retort back, and the energy between them seemed to elevate his temper and peak his interest. For a moment he had forgotten Harry and Ginny were even there.

He turned back to Hermione, with her arms crossed, and a haughty look on her face. He could have went toe to toe with her all day, staring into that face with those eyes boring into him, and that hair bristling around her head…

Yeah, he needed a break.

Ron sighed. “Fine, alright. Looks like I need a time out,” he said sarcastically as he stood up next to Harry. Ginny snorted and shook her head that was held in both of her hands.

“We’ll be right back,” Harry said over his shoulder as he pushed Ron roughly toward the hallway and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind them and silencing the room with his wand.

“What the actual fuck, Ron?” Harry hissed at him. “I told you she was fine. I told you there was nothing to worry about! The handshake was normal. You even said yours didn’t get cold.”

“It didn’t.”

“Then what the hell was that back there?”

Harry stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trousers and fixed Ron with a furious, yet worried, look. Ron rubbed the back of his neck, and then started pacing in front of the bed, wondering if he was, in fact, going mental.

“I dunno, Harry. Something isn’t right. She’s… her hand- and then she just-“

Harry sat on the bed and passed a hand over his face, looking exhausted. “Start with the handshake, then. What happened?”

“Right,” Ron said excitedly, and stopped to look at Harry. “It heated up, Harry. But, I mean, it _really_ heated up. I thought my hand would catch fire!”

Harry’s face softened, then his frown shifted into a grin. “You’re serious? Mate… she fancies you. You even said that’s what happens if someone-“

“Did it happen like that with Ginny?”

Harry blinked. “Well, yeah, of course. I mean, I only held her hand for half a second, though…”

“See, that’s normal. You two have known each other for years! But was there any indication that Ginny felt it, too?”

“No, I don’t think so. But she’s not supposed to, isn’t she?” Harry’s eyes widened. “Did Hermione…? No. How can you tell?”

“When she took her hand away, it was as if my hand were made of lava or something. And the way she looked at me afterwards, like she just _knew_.” He started pacing again. “What does this mean?”

“That she really… _really_ fancies you?” Harry smirked. He glanced at the door, then back to Ron, shaking his head. “I don’t see the problem here, Ron. And will you stay still, you’re making me dizzy.”

Ron stopped at the window beside the bed and sat on the ledge. “The problem is, if she can detect it, what if she can manipulate it? And if she can do that, what if she purposely made you _think_ she was friendly, and that she fancies me to get my guard down? I’m like a target or something in some sick twisted game of hers…”

“How could she know about it? Only you and George have the samples. What is her motive? Fleur has known her for years. Ginny, for two of them. She’s already told you why she’s here. _And_ you just said she seemed surprised afterwards. You’re reaching, Ron.”

Ron’s head felt like it was ten times its size, full of Cornish Pixies, and he imagined Hermione put them there as part of her plan…

“Then how do you explain it?”

“I don’t know why you thought she felt it. You told me the other person wouldn’t, and now I’m wondering if it’s ready to use for work… All I can say is that you owe her - and Ginny - an apology. Also,” he said and turned toward Ron with an arched brow and a smile, “I think I know why you’re reacting this way. You fancy her, don’t you?”

“Fuck you, Harry,” Ron groaned, rubbing his temples. “This isn’t funny. What I felt-”

“- in your hand, or…?”

_“Where else would I feel it?”_

Harry clamped his mouth shut, staring at Ron with an amused expression. Ron threw his hands in the air, frustrated and even more confused than ever. He wished he could be as calm as Harry, but he had to make him understand that this wasn’t normal.

All of a sudden the door slammed open, revealing a livid Ginny who stormed in and stalked up to Ron, pointing her finger at his chest.

“You had no right!” she yelled, backing Ron up against the wall. He raised his hands in surrender and glanced at Harry who wore a grimace and merely shrugged his shoulders.

“This is none of your business-“

“The hell it isn’t!” Ron yelled back at Ginny, defending himself. “You bring a stranger in here and I’m not supposed to be worried?”

“I told you, she isn’t a stranger!”

He started to reply, but movement caught his eye, and when he looked over Ginny’s shoulder he saw Hermione walk into the room. Her dark eyes darted from Ron and Ginny to Harry, hands knotted together at her stomach. Ron gulped and felt every nerve in his body prickle just underneath the surface of his skin.

“Ginny,” he said cautiously, and slowly side stepped away from her. “I’m sorry, okay?” He felt awful, for making a scene, but mostly for upsetting Ginny. He had cocked it all up, and he needed to reel it back in, take control, and get on more even footing if he were to figure this all out.

“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble,” Hermione said to Harry, her hands clasps together tightly. “I’ll understand if you want me to leave.”

Harry sighed, and Ron’s shoulders slumped. He felt panic rising in his chest. He didn’t know where it was coming from, but the need for her to not go away had suddenly become stronger than wanting her gone. But he never wanted her gone, did he? He just wanted answers. And if she left he would never know exactly what happened and why; and _that_ is why he wanted her to stay… Wasn’t it?

He shook his head and blurted out, “No!”

They all turned to look at him, and he swallowed thickly, forcing himself to speak calmly. “Look, I’m sorry, alright?” he addressed Hermione, who looked at him with a shield of apprehension. “I shouldn’t have come at you like that. It wasn’t my place, and this isn’t my house. Please don’t leave because of me. Besides, if you do, Ginny will hex me into next week.” He was glad to see Ginny smirk at his joke, which they all knew was the most likely outcome.

Hermione peered at him, her round eyes narrowed into slits, and said, “I know you don’t trust me, and that you have our reasons.” Ron started to respond, but she put a hand up to stop him. “I want a chance to prove that I am not… whatever you think that I am. So, since I have nothing to hide, I concede to a proper examination.”

When no one spoke, Hermione looked at all of them, and then huffed impatiently, “Well, isn’t that what that was out there - an interrogation? It’s only fair that I at least consent to one, if you’re going to grill me like that.”

She looked earnestly at him, waiting for his answer with her bottom lip caught between her teeth, and Ron wondered if maybe he was overreacting. What if Harry was right? But they had only just met, so why the odd reaction from the No Foe? It didn’t make any sense. He had to learn more…

“Hermione,” Ginny said, her hand on Hermione’s arm. “I don’t need confirmation, you know that. Right, Harry?”

Harry looked at Ron, then Ginny, then at Hermione. He pushed his glasses up his nose and cleared his throat. “Right. Well, I don’t need it. But Ron does, and if she’s willing to-“

“Harry!”

“Ginny,” Hermione said and put her hand on Ginny’s. “It’s fine; I can handle a few questions. Like I said,” she looked at Ron with a hard expression, “I’m an open book.”

“Alright then,” Ron replied, fully aware of how bizarre this all was, but too curious to care. But at least now Ginny couldn’t get mad at him

“Let’s leave them to it,” Harry said as he stood from the bed, gently pushing Ginny ahead of him out the door.

“What? No,” Ginny demanded, crossing her arms and standing her ground. “I have to make sure Ron doesn’t muck it up.”

“C’mon, Gin,” Harry sighed, managing to uproot Ginny with a look and two hands on her shoulders.

Then it was just him and Hermione, in Harry and Ginny’s bedroom. He gestured to the door, letting her walk out ahead of him. They went back to the table where remnants of their lunch were still scattered in containers, on half emptied plates, and glasses drained of pumpkin juice.

They sat down across from each other, and suddenly Ron didn’t know where to start.

XXXXX

She didn’t know what she was thinking. Of course someone would be suspicious of her, and why not the older brother of one, best mate to the other?

Ron Weasley… he had barreled in, with his tall body and broad shoulders, red hair flaming and freckles all over the damn place. And his mouth, loud and without any filter whatsoever. And what was with that handshake? How was he able to make that kind of heat, the kind where she didn’t exactly feel it on her skin so much as her nerve endings? She recalled the sensation as it shot up her arm and into her chest. How it heated her insides to the point where just an arched eyebrow was enough to set it off, as if fireworks had been set up inside of her, and he lit the match.

He was handsome, and that smile of his was charming enough to make her believe he used this approach on every girl he met. Well, it wouldn’t work on her; she didn’t consider herself flighty enough to fall for such antics...

Then he was questioning her, and looking at her as if she were a suspect in a case he was dying to crack open and solve right there over lunch. She was taken aback from the sudden change in attitude, but thought she handled herself well, especially when he outright insulted her- an obvious attempt at trying to ruffle her feathers.

However, as offended as she was, she knew Ron was coming from a place of protection- for Ginny, and for Harry. He had good reason to be cautious, but he seemed blinded by something else entirely, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had unknowingly done something to trigger this unrelenting doubt that she was someone he couldn’t – or wouldn’t – trust.

Then Harry had dragged Ron away, leaving Hermione staggering on the precipice of a row that she was sure would have escalated, ending with her either slapping him or snogging him…

_Whoa, where had that come from?_

Surely it was merely a residual thought left over from her first impression, from meeting a handsome man who she had first assumed was interested in her, but now knew he was only using his charm to disarm her, to get inside her head to expose any master plans she had to ruin all of their lives... Right?

She had shaken that thought from her brain, and decided to talk to Harry, and maybe try to make peace with Ron, because she was used to defending herself, and fighting for what she wanted. And what she wanted was to be accepted in this new world. She needed this man to trust her.

So she offered herself up for questioning. She figured if he was going to insist on believing there was cause for concern, then she would try her best to clear the air, and hopefully they can all start over, and forget this misunderstanding before Ginny regretted her decision to let Hermione in.

And now here she and Ron sat, back at the table, staring at everything but each other. When she had suggested they continue – only this time with her more prepared – she didn’t expect him to suddenly become shy. He was an Auror. Where was that passion for justice she had gotten a glimpse of just moments ago, before he left to talk to Harry? Why the hesitation? He looked lost in thought, uncertain of his own thoughts, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“So, what else do you want to know?” she asked after a prolonged silence, impatient to get this over with.

He came back to the present, shaking his head slightly and licking his lips before finally blinking at her. His lashes were so light, and in the seconds before he spoke she found herself studying how the blonde hairs flickered across the blue of his irises, like gossamer curtains against a brilliant blue sky...

_Oh God, I’ve gone mental._

“Right,” he said, and cleared his throat, then sat back in his chair and sighed. “I don’t know where to start,” he laughed, shaking his head.

Hermione frowned. She didn’t know what to say to that, so she waited silently, watching as a myriad of emotions flitted across his face, one after another: mirth, confusion, irritation, and finally settled on determination.

He sat up and fixed her with a look that she assumed was meant to intimidate her, but it was too late. She could tell he was flustered, uncertain of himself, and his previous implacable suspicion was already wavering. So she simply raised her eyebrows, trying her best not to notice how the ends of his ginger fringe kept getting caught in those damn lashes…

“Where did you grow up?”

“Where- why?”

“Background check.”

“Okay… I grew up with both my parents - who are dentists by the way, and muggles – in Cambridge. Would you like their names and address? They still live in my childhood home.”

She meant to be sarcastic, but he casually waved his hand and said, “I can get it later. Why did you go to school in France instead of Hogwarts?”

“That was my parents’ choice, not mine.” She sat back, more relaxed with the conversational tone he had decided to bring to this ‘interrogation’. “They felt it was more prestigious, or something. I was only eleven when I started so I never really questioned it.”

“When did you become friends with Fleur?”

“I… don’t remember exactly, about a year before she left for the Twiwizard Tournament. I was taking a lot of classes, and she was my French tutor. We both love magical creatures, and it sort of went from there. When she left school we kept in touch. After she got married, after the war, she came back and brought Ginny with her. That’s how she and I met.”

He seemed satisfied with that answer, nodding his head and biting his lip as he considered another question. Surely her connections to his sister-in-law, and sister, should be enough to erase any doubt about her authenticity?

“So, how did you become Senior Editor? You must have been top of your class.”

She saw a flicker of suspicion in his eyes as he studied her face. But he at least got her previous job title correct this time. “As a matter of fact, I got top marks in all of my classes,” she said with a sniff, and squared her shoulders. “In regards to my _previous_ job, I suppose that is due to hard work, isn’t it? I did what I had to do.”

“Like what? Did you use any… out of the ordinary type of magic?”

She froze, and glared at him. “What exactly are you implying?”

“It’s just a question,” he said, holding his hands up in the air. “If you don’t want to answer-“

“I would never – I _have_ never done anything out of the ‘ordinary’ to alter my chances of achieving anything in my life.” She felt her heart race at the mere thought of it. “How dare you even suggest-“

“Alright, alright,” he interrupted her before she could continue voicing her indignation. He sighed, almost in relief, and then said softly, “I had to ask, alright? Let’s just move on.”

She sat back, this time not as relaxed, unable to shake the implication of her actually breaking the rules in order to succeed. What kind of magic did he think she would have done anyway?

“Go on,” she said flatly, staring ahead.  

“Well, you have to look at me first.”

“Why?”

“How else will I know you’re lying?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, growing tired of this. What did she have to do to make him believe she wasn’t some murdering, thieving imposter?

“Harry and Ginny are going to come back inside any moment. It’s getting late in the day.”

She looked at her watch and Ron guffawed. “You consented to this!”

“And you got your answers. Ron,” she leaned forward, looked into his eyes and spoke as evenly, and as politely, as possible, “What do I have to do to make you trust me? Tell me and I’ll do it, I swear…”

Her breath almost caught in her throat as she spoke; Ron had leaned forward as well, and with their faces closer than ever, her voice trailed off and her mouth remained open, taking in shallow breaths. His cheeks pinked, and she could see every freckle, and every lash around those blue - so _very_ blue - eyes...

“I… I dunno,” his words left his mouth in a quick exhale before he pushed away from her gaze and ran a hand through his hair. Hermione felt a familiar heat rise in her chest and up her throat. She looked away, embarrassed that she was letting it happen again. But, then, why had _he_ stuttered? What did he _want_?

“I give up,” he said, and when she looked back at him he shrugged. “I can run a background check on you from work, but I know it’ll check out.”

“Then what was all this about?” she asked, exasperated. “I mean, I understood at first, but you still seem conflicted. What is it? What have I done?”

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he sighed heavily and laughed. “You must think I’m mental.”

Hermione shook her head, bewildered by this man who was overly confident one moment, and then the next was barely able to commit to an emotion. Was he unstable, or did his behaviour have something to do with her?

“Let’s start over,” Ron said, and offered her his hand from across the table. She looked at his hand: large and just as freckled as his face, with long fingers, steady like a rock. Her heart started racing, remembering the last time she shook it, and how strange it made her feel. Now it was her turn to be suspicious. She met his eyes and there was a challenge in there somewhere behind the charm and warmth, and she hesitated.

“Is this some sort of test?” she asked, clasping her hands in her lap.

Ron blinked, and then frowned. “What?”

“If I shake your hand… what will happen?” she asked, glancing down at his hand that was still hovering between them as if each finger were to suddenly grow teeth and jump at her.

His brow furrowed, and his hand started to wobble. “What- What do you mean?”

“You did something to it, didn’t you? Something kind of spell or charm?”

Ron’s eyes widened and his hand dropped to the table with a thud. “I… Are you bloody serious?”

“Are you?” she asked shrilly, standing up abruptly, after seeing confirmation in his eyes. “There is something on your hand, isn’t there? I knew it!”

Ron stood as well, glaring and pointing a finger at her. He was shaking now, and Hermione felt a tremor of panic in her chest. “You _knew_ it?” he yelled. “When? How?”

“Before! When you came in and I shook your hand. I don’t know _how_ or _why_ …“

He slapped his palms flat on the table, and leaned halfway across it to stare into her eyes. His sudden eagerness made her heart beat wildly in her chest, and her legs bumped into the chair behind her when she tripped backwards.

“What did you feel?” he asked earnestly.

“It was… hot. All up my arm, and…” she didn’t want to finish that sentence as it would give away too much about her initial feelings towards him, none of which were relevant now. “I thought I was imagining it at first, but it’s obvious I wasn’t. What did you do?”

He made his way around the table to her side, and she knocked her chair over trying to step in the direction of the kitchen. She could feel her wand against her bum, sticking out just enough for her to grab from the back pocket of her jeans, if she needed it.

“Shit, sorry,” Ron stammered when the chair hit the floor, as if the sound had startled him into behaving like a rational human again. He bent over to pick it up and set it right again.  Hermione let out a breath as the rapid thumping in her chest slowed. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I wasn’t scared,” she replied hastily.

“I dunno what the hell is going on,” he mumbled, leaning against the side of the table. “Like I said, you were not supposed to feel any of that. I’ve been trying to figure out why you did. I thought you had set me up. I know now you didn’t, going by that reaction…”

“So it’s true, you tried to trick me?”

“Not trick, exactly. Just… testing something out that my brother and I invented, for work.”

She guffawed, and then started pacing with her hands gripped to her hips. “Let me get this straight. You tested out some dodgy product on me, without my consent. Then proceeded to interrogate me based on the results of said product? That is deplorable.” She stopped and glared at him. He was watching her with a strange look on his face that she had no interest in trying to figure out as she was so angry she could spit. “Is that what this was all about? Some ridiculous magic told you I couldn’t be trusted? Did a hot hand make me out to be some kind of criminal?”

“No,” he said, pulling out the nearest chair and sitting down with a heavy thump. “It would’ve turned cold if that were the case.” He averted his eyes, and she saw the tips of his ears turn red. Her eyes widened and a rush of dread came over her as she filled in the blanks.

“So that means, when it turned hot… that meant I… with you?”

“Yeah.”

Hermione started coughing as a gasp got stuck in her throat. She felt exposed, as if someone had read her journal, had invaded her privacy, rooted through her innermost thoughts and desires that even she hadn’t fully explored yet. This was all happening so fast that she couldn’t settle on one specific thought, or emotion, or response. All she could think to do was deny, deny, deny...

“I don’t… I mean- I don’t even know you! What kind of- that’s ridiculous!”

“You’re not listening,” he was saying, elbows propped on knees and peering up at her. “The fact that you felt anything- that wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Well, obviously that is just further proof that this magic you haphazardly invented is faulty!” she shouted, her chest heaving up and down. She fought to calm herself down before speaking again. “Are you satisfied that I’m trustworthy?” When he only stared at her she tried again, “Do you believe I am who I say I am?”

“Yeah, I do,” he said quickly and stood up, taking a step toward her. When she didn’t back away he came closer; his face, his body, everything about his demeanor had changed. He still looked as confused as she felt, but all the hard edges that had caused him to mistrust her had disappeared.

“I’m gonna find out why this happened. I don’t know what went wrong. I thought we had it right, but… never mind that. I thought I was being clever, but it was stupid. It also doesn’t make for a great first impression, and I’m sorry.”

He was embarrassed, and remorseful, as he should be, as far as Hermione was concerned. But she was nowhere near ready to forgive him.

“Did Harry know about this… this so-called magic? Ginny?”

Ron gulped and shook his head. “No, no of course not. Please don’t tell them. I’m already in trouble for acting like an arse today.”

Hermione didn’t know Ron well enough to tell if he was lying or not, but she found it hard to believe that Harry wasn’t aware of it. She recalled hers and Harry’s handshake, how he seemed to relax afterwards, how friendly he had been. There had been no heat between them, but she hadn’t felt an ounce of what she did for Ron… whatever that was.

She could understand the need for confirmation, and appreciated the level of magic that was put into it, but she was furious, offended by his audacity to use magic on her, without her knowledge. If she had known, would she still have taken his hand?

Dropping her arms at her sides she said quietly, “I won’t tell.”

Ron thanked her, but she didn’t feel right about her decision. She wanted to yell at him some more, then confront Harry, and tell Ginny. But that would just start a whole new round of rows, and she didn’t want to be a part of any more friction between them. Her presence had already caused enough trouble.

“What I don’t understand,” Hermione said, “is why the deception? It wasn’t necessary.”

“I know that now. But I had to be sure.” He sighed and tucked his hands inside the pockets of his trousers, rocking back and forth on his heels. “I had no idea who you were, and you were going to come live here, and after... I was paranoid, I guess, but I had my reasons. It was supposed to be harmless, just a way to detect foul play. But it doesn’t work anyway, so it was all for nothing.”

She felt a tug of compassion towards him, and guilt over lying and convincing him his product hadn’t worked. She knew it did, she felt it. Perhaps there was a side effect, or an added aspect to it that he hadn’t realized yet, but she couldn’t admit her attraction now. Not when she knew it was all a ruse.

 _Let him squirm_ , she thought.

“You should work on it some more, if you’re planning to use it on, you know, actual _real_ criminals.” She shrugged casually, despite her warm face and the knot in her stomach “You could get in serious trouble thinking every person who shook your hand is in love with you.”

“I never said… l-love,” he stuttered, shaking his head and laughing uneasily. The knot twisted and she wrapped her arms tight around her belly.

“I know,” she scoffed. “It was just an expression.”

“But you’re right. I’ll work on it… I didn’t want to believe you were, I dunno, out to get us.” He tried smiling at her, but when she didn’t return the favor his face fell and he cleared his throat. Then, after a moment he spoke, this time more quietly while staring at the floor.

“When the war ended I thought that would be it. But since then dark magic, Death Eaters, and all sorts of terrible shite just keeps happening. I guess it was always there, and I was stupid to think it’d stop just cause You-Know-Who was dead, but… it stays with me. And then I get these ideas in my head, and…” He laughed again, shaking his head, and turned away from her, his hands in his hair. “I don’t know why the fuck I’m telling you this.”

 “I… I think I understand,” she offered, but didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t know why he was telling her these things, either, but the way he was reacting to his admission told her he hadn’t said that to anyone else.

_What is going on?_

After a long minute of awkward silence, with Ron staring at the floor and Hermione watching him, unsure of what to say or do next, he snorted and seemed to come to a silent decision about something.

“They must be wondering what’s going on,” Ron said abruptly before walking to the front of the house and grabbing his jacket from the wall. Then he walked back toward her, and she held her breath, and willed her heart to stay inside her chest as he came closer. When he held her own jacket out for her she took it slowly, then looked at him, confused.

“Ginny’s trying out for a team, and its kind of a big deal,” he explained with a smile on his face, as if nothing had happened. As if she wasn’t still angry with him. As if he hadn’t just confided in her, and made her want to forget everything else, and instead ask him, ‘ _Who are you, really?_ ’

“Want to watch us practice?”

“Um, yeah… alright.” She found herself nodding and pushing her arms through her jacket, then zipping it up. She watched in a daze as Ron zipped his up, using the very hand that had started this whole thing, and she blushed at the thought of holding it again, just to see what would happen...

But she didn’t.

She knew what Ron was doing, and her heart fell at what it meant, even though she knew there was never any chance, for so many reasons. So she followed along, smiling to match his, to show Harry and Ginny everything was okay between them. Because she was staying, and that was all that mattered… Right?

XXXXX

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and I look forward to our feedback!
> 
> P.S. If you enjoy Romione smut fics, then you will want to know more about a fic fest I am hosting on my Tumblr blog, RomioneSmut. Link is in my profile, so click over there for more info! (There will be prizes)


	4. Inebriation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, thank you for being so patient! As I mentioned in my previous chapter I am running a ficfest over on Tumblr. I had put my chapter fics on hold in order to write ten prompts for it (You can read them here under the fic called Feel the Love). But I just finished writing them, so now I’m back to this story and When In Doubt.
> 
> Thank you for your reviews, favs and follows! I hope you enjoy this next part. Half of it was written half-drunk, which you might get by the title of the chapter haha… (I’m an adult)
> 
> Note: This chapter was not beta’ed. I edit like crazy, but typos and things get past me sometimes. It’s also super long because I was on a word limit with those prompts, so once I was let loose I kind of got a bit wordy...

Ron wiped his brow and cringed as Harry and Ginny once again volleyed the quaffle back and forth from one end of the massive pitch they had created in their garden, to where he swayed back and forth in front of the three suspended hoops . They were coming closer, and Ron’s buttocks were clenched around the broom; he was determined to not let another quaffle get past him. He’d managed to deter seven out of nine attempts so far, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. Ginny was an excellent player, but she was fantastic when angry. With Ron at the end of her wrath, and the one keeping her from scoring, she was doubling her efforts, complete with a furrowed brow, scowl, and a ribbon of fiery hair trailing behind her.

The quaffle had just barely grazed Ron’s fingertips as he launched himself to the left to prevent it from escaping his grasp. She had faked him out, and he missed, and now he was righting himself on his broom, shaking his head and out of breath. He was happy for Ginny, and if this were any other day he’d be laughing, but he couldn’t shake the embarrassment with Hermione watching from below.

“Hell yeah!” Ginny yelled and smacked Harry’s outstretched hand.

“Nice one, Gin!” Ron called out before flying over and tugging on a long strand of amber hair. He was trying to be normal- to be her prattish, teasing older brother, hoping that she had let out enough aggression in the past half hour by using his head as target practice to not still want to hex his bollocks off for his earlier behaviour.

She turned to him and smiled, giving him a look that told him she wasn’t angry, but still wasn’t over it, and he supposed that was good enough for now. Harry led them back down to the ground and they dismounted, then walked over to where Hermione was standing on the grass.

“Thanks for the practice,” Ginny told Ron and Harry, and pushed her sweaty hair off her face. “You’re a great Keeper, Ron. But I got a couple in, didn’t I?”

“You beat my arse up there. Now I just have to hack you off on the day of tryouts and you’re a shoo in,” Ron quipped, but his attempt at humor was met with an awkward silence as he looked at Harry’s smirk, Ginny rolling her eyes, and Hermione, who was looking to the side with tightly pressed together lips.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Ginny said, with what Ron hoped was mirth, despite her snappish tone.

Hermione then said, a bit too cheerily, as far as Ron was concerned, “That was brilliant! I’m not much into Quidditch, as you know, but it was rather exciting watching you play. You’re going to do very well at trials.”

“Thank you, Hermione,” Ginny beamed.

But Ron could only look at Hermione with an incredulous look. Not into Quidditch? This witch could not be further away from Ron if they were from different planets at either end of the universe.

“We’ll keep at it every weekend,” Harry said, taking Ginny’s broom and sending it with his to the shed at the far corner of the garden. “But you’re already amazing. And you should bring that sort of aggression every time, use it to play as hard as you can. It works for you.” Ginny blushed and thanked him, and he was looking at her with such awe and praise that Ron felt slightly uncomfortable standing there witness to it. However, Hermione again was watching them with a smile, as if she had never seen that type of affection before.

“I could use a shower,” Ginny sighed, then moved to open the back door, letting everyone inside. “So, are you two all sorted out?” she asked as they all took off their jackets.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other; his heartbeat picked up speed, waiting for her to out him to Ginny. But she merely smiled and nodded.

“Yes, I believe I’ve proven myself an upright and law abiding citizen.” She turned to Ron, silently screaming his secret all over her face, nonverbally letting him know that she held some kind of power over him. He didn’t like it. “Isn’t that right, Ron?”

“Er, yeah, sure,” he said tightly, wanting to glare, but instead shrugged and adopted a humbled stance. “I overreacted, but it’s all good. We’re… sorted.”

He heard Harry clear his throat loudly from behind him, and he was thankful his hands were currently shoved into his pockets, preventing him from throttling his best mate.

But Ginny looked convinced as she smiled gratefully, then her face suddenly lit up, and he could tell she just had another one of her spontaneous ideas. “We should have a party!”

“Come on, Harry!” Ginny pleaded after Harry groaned. “We’ll only invite a few people. Just a get together, really- to introduce Hermione to our _nicer_ , more _welcoming_ , friends and family.” She gave Ron a pointed look.

“I could get George and Angelina,” Ron offered, still trying his best to make it up to his sister. As much as they teased and rowed, he never enjoyed being on her bad side. “I was supposed to meet up with them tonight. It’d be nice not to be a third wheel for once.”

“As if that ever stopped you with us!” Ginny scoffed.

“You guys don’t count,” Ron snorted, and bit the inside of his cheek as Ginny shook her head at him, looking at least half-amused.

“We can pick up drinks from Leaky,” he continued. “And if I see Seamus, him and Dean will want to come, too…”

A party was starting to sound like an excellent idea. He didn’t mind hanging out with George and his girlfriend, but every time he did they tried to fix him up with someone he didn’t know. Twice he’d met up with them and there was a stranger at their table who he was forced to make small talk with, and both times it ended with the girl asking after him, wanting to see him again, and him declining. So a night with friends and family, and plenty of drinks, sounded brilliant. Of course, Hermione would be there, and he could keep an eye on her, and maybe try and figure out more of what was going on, but that was besides the point…

“And I can send word to Luna and Neville,” Ginny said excitedly. Harry looked close to softening, so she grabbed his hand and said, “It’s been weeks. It’ll be good to see them again, yeah?”

Ron stiffened, and saw Hermione move out of the corner of his eye. He followed her eyes to Harry and Ginny’s joined hands, then watched Harry’s expression. He was nodding slowly and his cheeks were flaring up. Then Ron switched to study Ginny. but he didn’t get to study for long as Harry took his hand away too quickly, making Ginny’s face fall.

“Are you okay, Harry? You feel feverish,” she said, rubbing her palms together. Then she reached out to feel his forehead. “That’s so strange…”

“I feel fine- Okay, we can have the party,” Harry said quickly, and backed away from Ginny. He glanced at Ron furtively when she turned her back to him and smiled broadly, oblivious to the energy in the room due to her enthusiasm. “Okay, I’m gonna grab a shower. Hermione can help me get things set up here. Ron, go home and clean up cause you smell like an armpit, then get the drinks and whoever, and Harry you can get the food. We’ll all meet up here around eight?” With that she was off to the bedroom in a flurry of ginger excitement.

“Anyway, I should, er… get cleaned up… too…” Harry mumbled, his face still red from Ginny’s hand holding and fretting over his well being, as he inched his way toward the bedroom.

“For fuck’s sake,” Ron said, wrinkling his nose. “Good luck dealing with them two,” he said to Hermione who seemed startled to be spoken to- either by him or anyone, he wasn’t sure. When Harry disappeared behind the bedroom door, Ron found himself alone with Hermione again.

In the thickened silence between them he could feel her worry and anxiety rippling through the air. Ever since Ginny took Harry’s hand and seemed to be affected by it, he could only think one thing: had Hermione lied to him? It still didn’t make sense. Hermione said she didn’t feel that way about him, and even if she did, would it be enough to elicit the same reaction as Ginny and Harry, two people who’ve known each other since they were kids and were in a committed and loving relationship? Yet she seemed worried about something…

“Is anything the matter?” There was a forced aloofness in Hermione’s voice that made him want to throw a million questions at her.

Instead, ignoring the goose flesh trailing up and down his arms, he smiled and walked up to her, watching her face turn to stone, giving away nothing. “Not at all,” he said, then waited a second before adding, “What do you like to drink?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Drink? What do you like? Firewhiskey? Butterbeer? Lager?”

Her eyes darted back and forth across his face as the question rolled around in her brain. He swallowed, forcing himself to remain passive while everything in him wanted to demand she tell him what was really going on. Was she really that attracted to him? How? Why? And why did she lie about it? Or maybe it really was a fluke, and the results weren’t consistent on a case to case basis. His mind was reeling with questions he had for Hermione, for Harry, for George, and himself. But after what he did, knowing she still had every right to be livid with him, he didn’t dare approach the subject again.

This had to be the strangest day he’d had in a very long time.

“I’m not picky.”

“Somehow I don’t believe that,” he smirked, then stepped away and grabbed his coat. “See you later, yeah?”

Ron had lost count on the number of times his mind was turned around in just that one afternoon. And now it was happening again, and he needed space, some time alone to think. He gave her another second to say something, but when she only stood there, he walked out the front door and apparated outside the wards back to his flat.

 XXXXX

Hermione stood alone in the center of Harry and Ginny’s house, staring at the door that Ron had just closed behind him, the click of it resounding in her ears. What just happened? How had everything gotten so complicated so quickly in the space of one afternoon? What had she gotten herself into exactly?

And he knew- she could tell he knew that she had lied. Honestly, though, what was she supposed to do in that situation? Tell him that she fancied him as soon as she saw him? Heavens no. She barely knew him! She wasn’t even sure that was the truth. For all she knew, the magic he used on her _made_ her feel that way, and this was all an elaborate joke he had cooked up to mess with the new girl. She didn’t want to think that was the case, but what other reason could there be for her confused and flustered behaviour? Hermione wasn’t used to this anxious feeling, to being so uncertain about her feelings that she’d been reduced to stammering and speechlessness.

And now she had to get ready to meet even more new people; in her current state of mind the last thing she wanted was to try and navigate even more already established relationships as a newcomer. And with Ron there, staring and studying her the way he had all day, she’d be a nervous wreck. Not to mention that impromptu get-togethers were not her strong suit. She wasn’t often invited out with friends, but when she was she always needed at least a day’s notice, preferably three, in order to schedule accordingly.

But this is what she wanted, to be tested, challenged in a new setting- to make friends. So, Hermione concluded, as she stood there mulling it all over in her mind, this was actually part of the plan, so it was okay… right?

Hermione sighed. She couldn’t do anything about Ron at the moment, and she had hours until the party, so it wasn’t worth standing there like a ninny and worry herself into a frenzy. She shook out her arms and took a deep breath, then went to her new bedroom to try and find something to wear.

 

In the hours the followed, Hermione helped Ginny by adding more chairs, tables, plates and cutlery; Harry had gone out and bought food and snacks, which they set out onto tabletops and charmed to stay warm in the kitchen.

After everything was set up, Hermione was showing Ginny how to use her CD player, using magic to power it since their house didn’t have any outlets.  They sat on the floor, listening to music, and picking out which songs to play for the get-together… that Ginny kept calling a party, much to Harry’s chagrin.

“You don’t like parties?” Hermione asked him, sifting through cases of discs scattered around them as Ginny slipped another one into the player, filling the house with instrumental classical music.

Harry sat on the arm of the sofa, watching them, chuckling at Ginny’s enthrallment over the muggle device. “Oh, I like them fine,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve just been extra tired lately.”

“Working too hard? I know that feeling,” Hermione said kindly as she attempted to reorganize her collection.

“I suppose,” he replied, then shrugged again. “Can’t really discuss it too much, but there have been a rise in criminal activity lately. Not sure what’s causing it, but it’s… strange, what’s going on. Anyway, depending on what section of the department you’ll be working in, we might even get to work together at some point.”

Hermione stopped. “So the crimes that are happening have to do with magical creatures? Do you often consult with that department to solve cases?”

Harry looked uneasy all of a sudden, scratching the back of his neck and grinning. “Ginny wasn’t lying; you are smart, yeah?” Hermione blushed and Ginny nodded, as if to say she told him so. He stared at her for a moment, and she felt like she was being studied again. It must be an Auror habit, because he then said, with a thoughtful expression, “Like I said, I can’t say much. But... I may be able to recommend you work in a certain division, in order to pull you for consultation.”

“You can do that?” Hermione asked. “I mean, of course, but you would do that, for me? How do you know I’d be helpful? I don’t even know what the cases are. I don’t have any real experience in law, only what I’ve read in books…”

“I have a good feeling about you,” he said it so simply, and Hermione had to bite her tongue and not ask if it had anything to do with the handshake he had given her earlier. “Does that sound like something you’d be interested in, without knowing all the facts just yet? I know it’s a lot to ask, being so vague and all.”

Hermione looked at Ginny who was watching them with interest.

“Go for it Hermione,” she said. “This is the opportunity you’ve been looking for, to actually do something!”

“That sounds amazing,” Hermione said, not believing the turns this day was making. “But don’t want it to seem like I got it just because you asked them to.”

Harry nodded, looking disappointed. “I can understand that. We’ll figure something out. I’ll talk it over with Ron, see what he thinks. We can dicuss it further after Monday.”

At the mention of Ron’s name Hermione’s heart sank. She had no idea what he would say to her working with them. “Thank you, Harry,” Hermione said, returning his smile. “I appreciate the offer, really.”

“No problem,” he said and then bent over to scoop up a CD case and turning it over. “Ah, The Beatles. Classic.”

Ginny snatched the case out of Harry’s hand and opened it. “I haven’t listened to this one yet,” she said eagerly, popping the disc out and inserting it into the slot like Hermione showed her, pressed play, then muttered, “I hope it’s not another slow song… Oh this is great! Yes, put this on the list.”

Hermione grabbed the parchment and quill and scribbled the album on the short list of Ginny-approved muggle songs. She smiled, happy to be sitting there with friends, listening to music and chatting away. She felt a comfort she hadn’t felt since Fleur had left, and even then her old friend wasn’t as laid back as Ginny and Harry were. This felt… easy. And with Harry’s offer of a potentially exciting new venture, she looked forward to the future. Even the party, that would start in just an hour, didn’t feel as daunting as it had hours ago.

 

Soon enough the sun had set as eight o’clock rolled around, and Harry had lit more candles and lamps around the house, casting shadows over the walls and making the modern furniture look more cozy and inviting than it had in the brightness of day. Ginny put on an upbeat song from their muggle song list, and was dancing around the living room lighting candles in her dark jeans and oversized green jumper, swinging her ponytail to the music as she tried to sing along.

Hermione went outside into the chilly night. She had changed into a thick maroon jumper and had let her hair loose. But she had underestimated how cold it had become as the sun was no longer sending down beams of warmth between the nippy air, and hugged herself as long heavy curls played with the soft breeze atop her shoulders and onto her face. She watched Harry line the walkway with twinkling lights and suspend floating glowing lanterns all around the house, from front to back. Between him and Ginny, they made the entire house look like it was home to swarm of giant fireflies. Hermione thought it was beautiful. She knew lots of spells, but rarely got the chance to perform them purely for recreational use. Everything had always been so practical. That was the way she was raised. So she couldn’t help but stand near the road, staring up at the house in awe, and didn’t hear when someone came up behind her until they spoke as they passed, making her jump.

“You must be Hermione.”

Hermione recovered quickly as a stocky young man with cropped ginger  hair and a scruffy beard turned to face her. “And you must be George,” she said with a smile and shoved her hands into her sleeves, feigning cold, but trying to avoid any more handshakes. If this was the brother who helped Ron come up with that magical concoction then she’d have to be extra careful tonight.

His face was wider than Ron’s, and his smile spread across freckled cheeks. “The one and only. Ron told me you were Ginny’s friend, but he failed to mention-“

“Oi!” Ron came running up to George’s side, standing only inches taller than his brother, gasping for breath. “Thanks for the help, brother. Really, good of you to wait.” He was levitating a large box with his wand that was making a clanging glass-on-glass sound every time it moved. He also had a large paper bag tucked under one arm.

“Sorry, Ron. I was just meeting our new friend, Hermione. To think, our sister, harboring a fugitive.”

“Excuse me,” Hermione said sharply.

“George, I told you she was clear,” Ron muttered, and even in the dim light of the lanterns Hermione could see his ears grow crimson.

“So, you’re the brother who helped Ron invent that potion, aren’t you?” Hermione couldn’t help herself. She had kept quiet about Harry’s involvement, but the two men in front of her were wholly responsible for the invention that started this whole thing to begin with. “Did Ron tell you what happened with your supposed flawless invention? How he used it on me?”

“Fucking hell,” Ron moaned and set the box on the grass.

“I… yeah,” George said, and she had a feeling he was rarely at a loss for words. “I mean, I didn’t know he was going to use it on you. I didn’t even know about you until he came to see me a few hours ago. And about that-“

“Bugger all,” Ron said just as Ginny came out of the house and ran up to them, then hugged George’s side.

“Hey, Georgie,” Ginny said cheerfully. “I see you’ve met Hermione?”

“Yeah, we were just getting to know each other,” George said slowly, hugging her back and looking a bit confused.

“Where’s Ang?”

“She begged off, didn’t feel well. What, aren’t I pretty enough without her?” George pushed Ginny playfully who laughed and shrugged.

“Nah, I guess you’ll do. Are those the drinks?” Ginny pointed to the box then levitated it when Ron made a noise of confirmation with his throat. “Come on, we can talk more inside. It’s getting too cold out here without jackets.”

Hermione stayed silent during this exchange, remembering her promise not to let Ginny know about the No Foe Plus. Her stomach turned at the thought of keeping anything from her friend. Ginny was being so kind letting her live with them, and helping her get the job at the Ministry. And this was how she repayed her? By lying for Ron, someone she didn’t even know, but felt a ridiculous connection to- a connection she wasn’t even certain was entirely genuine? Either way, she clamped her mouth shut and tried her best to reign in her emotions so as to get through the night.

XXXXX

Ron was panicking. Ginny had almost overheard them, and he couldn’t let her find out. Ever. As trained and practiced as he was in stealth and subterfuge, Ron couldn’t stand to be dishonest to those closest to him. So, as he stood there, smiling at George and Ginny’s banter while Hermione was fuming silently beside him, he felt like an absolute arse. What seemed like a great idea in the morning, he now knew it wasn’t worth all the stress it had caused.

Ginny slipped her arm through George’s and led him to the front door. Ron seized the moment and stilled Hermione with a hand on her sleeve. She jumped away from him, and he hated at the look she gave him, leaving no guesswork as to how she felt about the situation.

“What?” she snapped in a whisper. “Do you want to make sure I’m going to keep my mouth shut? That I won’t tell Ginny what you did? What you and Harry did? I saw how she reacted earlier, she felt it, too.” Hermione said all this very fast, and seemed to instantly regret it as soon as she closed her mouth and tried to walk away, but he pulled her back.

“Exactly,” Ron hissed back, glancing furtively at Ginny and George’s backs. They were ascending the stairs. “They’re together so it makes sense, doesn’t it, for her to feel it? So, you see, that proves that it works. How can it not, with that evidence? Huh? How do you explain-“

“What are you trying to say?” Hermione replied, muttering out of the corner of her mouth and looking straight ahead. “That I lied? That I- that I what? Fancy you?” She laughed under her breath, and glanced sideways and up at him. She stopped, making him halt in his steps to prevent his body from toppling her over, then turned to give him her full on look of contempt. “You know, you have some nerve. I don’t know what type of girl you think I am, but I am not swayed so easily by a cheeky grin and a handshake, no matter what kind of magic you try to use on me. Besides, according to you, Ginny and I weren’t supposed to even feel anything, so that in itself _is_ faulty.”

“You think I made you- that wasn’t the point!” He kept his voice down, but it was becoming difficult with her accusing him of meddling with her mind and feelings. “I’m trying to tell you, if you’d listen, that that was a side effect. I was talking to George and he said-“

“Oi, come on, you lot!” Ginny had the door open, tapping her foot and staring at them curiously. “It’s a lot warmer inside and Neville and Luna just arrived through the back door.”

He watched Hermione turn her face into a smile as she walked ahead of him toward Ginny and into the house. He was about to do the same when Ginny pushed him back onto the porch, closing the door behind her, shutting everyone else inside.

“What the hell is going on, Ron?” she asked before Ron could object, with one hand on her hip, and the other pointing a finger at his chest. “I’m not stupid. You think I didn’t notice how completely fake you two have been, acting like it’s all okay? And now I catch you glaring at each other in what looked to me like a blazing row. Fess up. What did you do, Ron?”

He wanted to tell her that he made a mistake, and that Hermione found out, and how this now involved him having to lie to his own sister, and how he might have possibly gotten George in trouble. He wanted to ask her if Hermione had said anything to her about him, to find out if her reaction to him was just a fluke. But he didn’t want to start a row with Ginny; he’d only succeed in digging a deeper hole for himself, and end up storming off, spending the night alone.

“I didn’t do anything,” he said calmly and shrugged. “I reckon she’s still upset with me for acting like an arse, asking all those questions, you know? I apologized, but… Listen, I’ll make it right. Don’t worry, Gin. Let’s just have fun tonight, alright? This was a brilliant idea, having a party. Harry might even let loose a bit, yeah?”

He knew mentioning Harry would soften Ginny up, and he was right as he saw the lines in her forehead dissolve, and her fists unclench.

“Fine, if you say so,” she sighed, then shivered against the chill of being outside without a jacket. “I just want everything to go well, you know? I just want to help. And you’re making it bloody difficult.”

Ron’s smile was sincere as he touched her shoulder, giving it a brotherly squeeze. “I know, and I’m sorry. You’re a great friend. A right saint. I reckon they’ll erect a statue in your honor for letting in a stray human witch.”

“Fuck you, Ron.” But she was smirking as she swatted his hand away. Then she paused and said more seriously, “Do you promise you’re okay with this? I mean, it doesn’t matter… but it does, you know? I hate saying it, but I do trust your judgment.”

“I promise,” he said, looking in her eyes, because he found in that moment that he meant it. Hermione wasn’t a criminal, and even though they already had issues, it had nothing to do with Ginny and whether or not she should stay. He’d just have to figure all this out on his own and learn to deal with the conflicting emotions and thoughts until he was back to his normal self again.

“Okay,” Ginny said and tightened the ponytail atop her head. “Let’s get a drink, yeah? Looks like you could use one.”

“Too right,” Ron replied and opened the door, letting her in before him. He sighed as he followed, well aware that he had dodged a bullet just then.

Inside there was music playing he’d never heard before, coming from a metal looking box he’d never seen. A crowd of Neville, Luna and Hermione were around the box, and Hermione was explaining to them about what it was. Curious, Ron walked toward them, listening. Apparently, it was called a CD player and there were circle things you put inside and it played all kinds of music. It seemed like the kind of thing his dad would love, and he almost said so, before Luna saw him and smiled brightly.

“Ron! You look taller than the last time I saw you,” she said in her breathy voice, which made Ron smile affectionately.

“Luna, you only saw me not three weeks ago, at the Leaky. I couldn’t have grown since then.”

“Perhaps you just need a haircut then,” she said thoughtfully, and Ron frowned, patting his hair to make sure it wasn’t sticking up on top. He shook his head, moving some strands out of his lashes; he realised Hermione was watching, so he dropped his hand and looked away, scowling.

“Hey, Ron. Fancy a drink?” Thoughts about his hair and Hermione were interrupted by Neville who was headed toward the kitchen where Harry stood with Ginny, both drinking lagers and seemed to be in deep conversation. Bottles of lager, butterbeer, and firewhiskey were sitting in a giant tub of ice on the dining table to the side. Ron grabbed a firewhiskey gratefully, popping the top off with the edge of the table.

George came out of the bathroom then and ambled toward them, grabbing a butterbeer from the tub. “Ron, we need to talk about…” he glanced at Neville. “…that thing we were working on for the shop.”

“Not now, George,” Ron groaned. “This is a party, for fuck’s sake.”

“Right, well, I’ll try not to get my bollocks twisted off by the guest of honor then,” George said sarcastically before downing half his drink.

“What are you guys talking about?” Neville asked, looking back and forth between them.

“Nevermind,” Ron shrugged nonchalantly. “Shop talk, and all that.”

“Alright, then… So, how’s work?” Neville asked as he sipped on his butterbeer. “The Daily Prophet has been crazy with stories of what’s going on.”

“Yeah, it’s some barking shit, I’ll tell you that much,” Ron said, taking a long sip, thankful for the change of subject. George gave him a look then peered over his shoulder at Hermione, then back to Ron and shook his head.

 _Well, shit,_ Ron thought. _Now George is pissed at me, too?_

They chatted about the news and drank some more, then Harry joined them when there was a loud knock and Ginny went to open the door. There was uproar of noise as Seamus and Dean entered.

“Ginny!” Seamus bellowed. “I couldn’t believe it when Ron told me. Old man Potter was having a party? Couldn’t miss it!”

“It’s not too late,” Harry retorted, then was pulled into a hug by Seamus, then Dean, laughing.

“Good to see you, Harry,” Dean said in his low voice. “Ron, what’s good?”

“Hey, guys,” Ron said as he hugged it out with two of his friends he didn’t get to see as often as he’d liked. “Drinks?”

“Fuck, yeah, I’ll have what you got,” Seamus answered. Ron grabbed two firewhiskeys, passing one to Dean and the other to Seamus as Ginny introduced them to Hermione. He swallowed uneasily when Seamus’ eyes lingered on her figure as Hermione talked and smiled politely.

“Hey, Seamus, you catch that Quidditch game on the wireless last week?” Ron managed to successfully herd Seamus away from Hermione and into a discussion about the unfair ruling of the match between the Cannons and Bangers, not once stopping to think on why he bothered, ignoring the voice in his head asking why he cared.

After hanging out and catching up for a while, Dean took out a set of Exploding Snap cards, and a game ensued with everyone taking turns choosing pairs from the grid of cards on the coffee table. Ron suggested they turn it into a drinking game where, whoever the cards exploded on, they had to take a shot of Firewhiskey. Hermione had never played so it was particularly entertaining watching her jump a foot in the air when the cards exploded on her turn, which was more often than it was for the rest of them as she seemed to be brilliant at memorizing where every card was and choosing pairs, whether she wanted to lose or not. Ron had already taken three shots, emptied two firewhiskeys and was into his second lager as he watched a lightheaded looking Hermione sat on the sofa, glaring at the remaining cards in front of her.

“You’re losing on purpose,” Ron laughed as she sighed with relief when she upturned mismatching cards. “What’s the fun in that?”

That earned him a glare icy enough to send a chill down a polar bear’s back, so he shut his mouth as he took her place on the sofa. He saw the cards swimming in front of him and laughed along with the rest of them as they watched him reach out with one shaky hand. Of the ten cards left he also chose mismatched pairs.

“Now were you trying to lose, or can’t you help making bad decisions?” Hermione asked haughtily, causing everyone to shut up and look at her, then back at Ron. There was a moment of silence as their eyes met across the pile of cards.

“Here ya go,” Harry said, cutting between them, and slammed a short glass of firewhiskey in front of Ron.

“Harry, I lost,” Ron said, but then he shrugged and grabbed the shot anyway. Feeling bold from his already inebriated veins, he kept his eyes on Hermione as he raised the glass toward her.

“To… Hermione – may she spare my bollocks for at least another day.”

He took pride in her narrowed eyes and obviously flustered state. So, with a crooked smile, and following the laughter around him, he threw the shot down his throat and hissed as it burned its way down his esophagus.

“Move over, it’s my turn,” Ginny pushed at Ron, making him fall to the floor. He merely chuckled and slid over enough to let her sit, resting his back on the front of the sofa. The cards didn’t explode, but Ginny wanted a shot anyway.

“For prosperity!” George yelled after taking a shot for himself to take along with her, and everyone cheered, even Hermione, to Ron’s surprise. She was loosening up, even after Ron’s toast, and he was seeing her in a different light than earlier in the day. Where before she was buttoned up and proper, now she was glassy eyed and grinning, clapping when Ginny sputtered on the burning sensation Ron knew all too well.

Then it was Dean’s turn, then Neville’s, then Harry’s. Luna opted not to play, but sat and observed, laughing along with everyone as she sipped her butterbeer. After Seamus and George’s turns there were only six cards left.

“Hermione, you’re up!”

When Hermione took George’s place Ron could feel her behind him, to his right, her knee grazing his shoulder. Her white sock-covered foot was on the floor next to his hand, and he stared down at it, spacing out as his vision crossed and blurred until his second set of translucent fingers overlapped her toes…

Bang!

He jumped at the noise. There was smoke coming from the cards, and he heard everyone laughing and groaning around him. That’s when he felt her leg on his back, which must have happened when he sat up, pressing into her leg that she was trying to pull out from his entrapment. He stood up quickly, staggering to his feet, and bumped into Harry who was holding a shot glass filled to the brim with firewhiskey… that promptly spilled all over Ron’s jumper and trousers.

“Why the hell’d you stand up for?” Harry scolded, shaking his hand that was covered in liquid.

 “Shit, sorry,” Ron said, swaying, and using one hand on the sofa to stay upright. He looked behind him and Hermione was leaning back to avoid his arse bumping her face, which was bright red.

“I think you need some water,” Neville said, side stepping Harry and taking Ron’s arm, steering him away from the sofa and around to the kitchen.

Away from the rest of their friends, Ron and Neville leaned against the kitchen counter and watched as Hermione drank down another shot, making that her 6th of the night. Then she got up and stood next to Luna, bracing herself with one hand on the back of Harry’s armchair.

“What d’you think of her?” Ron’s words rolled out of his mouth like a handful of marbles, his bleary eyes on Hermione and Luna from across the room. Luna was talking with her arms to the sides, fluttering them around as she talked eagerly to a bewildered looking, yet smiling Hermione.

“Luna? Well, you know what I think of her, I live with the girl.”

Ron rolled his eyes and blinked slowly, then pointed at the girls with the glass of water Neville had pressed into his hand. “No no… Hermione. Reckon she’s alright?”

“Depends on what you mean by alright? She seems nice enough. ‘Cept with you. Dunno what you did, but you got her knickers in a twist ‘bout something.”

Ginny joined Hermione and Luna and said something which made them all look back at Ron and Neville.

“Shit,” Ron muttered and looked at the ceiling as Neville stared at his trainers. “Whaddaya think she said to ‘em?”

“I dunno,” Harry’s voice sounded from next to Ron, making him gasp.

“Fuck, Harry! You’re stealthy.”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” he said, taking Ron’s water and drinking the rest of it. Ron guffawed and nudged his shoulder hard. Harry laughed, “You’re just too pissed and busy staring at Hermione to notice. Neville, what d’you think?”

“I am not getting in the middle,” Neville said, chuckling nervously.

Suddenly Seamus was there, rushing up to Harry and Ron, whispering, “So Hermione’s single, yeah? What’s her deal? Think I could pull her?”

Before Ron could speak Harry said very convincingly, “Nah, I think she’s hung up on an ex or something. Ginny said something about it. Best not to get involved.”

“Damn,” Seamus cursed, and the four of them looked over at Hermione, Luna and Ginny, then they all turned away quickly when the girls saw them looking.

“Feels like we’re back at bloody Hogwarts,” Ron mumbled, making them all chuckle. He was staring at the back of Hermione’s hair at the long curly tendrils that fell down her back to the top of her arse in those tight jeans when he suddenly felt dizzy. “I need some air.” And with that, he pushed off of the counter and slid out of the back door.

XXXXX

Her head was spinning. Whether from the numerous shots of firewhiskey, the overwhelming feeling of meeting so many new people, or being in the same room with Ron Weasley staring, and talking, and breathing… she wasn’t quite sure.

“Hermione,” Ginny said as she came up to her and Luna. “Ron’s face - when you said that to him - brilliant.” She laughed and looked behind her. Hermione and Luna followed her eyes and she saw Ron in the kitchen with Neville. Ginny snorted when they both pretended not to be staring.

“He did turn a particular shade of red,” Luna giggled. “What happened between you two? There’s a strange energy there.”

Hermione blushed and smoothed her hair back, avoiding Ginny’s curious eyes, which was easy since she couldn’t very well focus on anything specific anyway. “Ron was… let’s say he was doing his job. But he was so… incorrigible. Egotistical, one might say.” She twisted around to glare at him, and saw him and Neville were joined by Harry, and once again they all looked away. _So immature_ , she thought, and turned back to Ginny, sneering. “As if I would ever- even if it were true, it doesn’t matter anyway, no matter what he- um, I mean-” Something in her brain told her to stop talking and she went to lean on the chair again, but missed and stumbled. Ginny giggled as she righted herself, her face hotter than the sun. “Was just feeling the firewhiskey I’spose. Is it hot in here? I think this jumper is a bit too thick. Do y’mind if I step outside a bit?”

“Are you alright?” Ginny asked, suddenly worried and put a hand on her arm. “Do you want me to come with?”

Hermione shook her head vigorously, the movement making her head ache. “M’fine. Just need fresh air. Need to get away from people I reckon is what I need, yeah.” She was rambling, but she needed to get outside and away from everyone, before she said something she regretted.

‘Okay,” Ginny said slowly, exchanging a glance with Luna. “Holler if you need me. I can hold back hair unlike anyone else.”

Hermione smiled and nodded, then walked the short distance to the front door. Seconds later she was on the front porch, the noise from inside having stopped as soon as she closed the door behind her. She breathed crisp, cool air in through her nose, and watched as small puffy clouds of warm breath escaped through her mouth under the dim lighting of the surrounding lanterns that seemed to zoom in and out of focus.

She grimaced then, squeezing her eyes shut as she remembered lashing out at Ron in front of everyone, him mocking her, then her humiliating rambling about Ron to Ginny, almost telling her everything in one jumbled breath. A wave of nausea came over her then. She could very easily blame this all on that red-headed giant of a man. He made her feel reckless, as if she had to prove that she wasn’t as snotty as he obviously seemed to think she was. And now here she was having drunk more than she ever had before, alone and in the cold, and her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and bowling balls.

Suddenly there was a thumping noise that came from the other side of the house. She froze, her eyes flew open, and she reached out to grab hold of a column. She heard it again, followed by a cough, and her hand gripped harder. Once again she cursed her lapse in judgment as she took a moment to try and clear her head.

She heard muttering, and even though she assumed it was someone from the party, she decided to investigate. The porch wrapped around the exterior so, with carefully planned tip toed steps and almost tripping on her own feet, she flattened herself against the stone and shimmied around the corner, ducked underneath a window, then peered around the next corner to see who was on the back porch.

She let out a groan. “Damn it.”

She must have said that out loud because Ron, who was leaning back on a chair with his feet propped on the railing in front of him, stopped and looked over to where she was standing.

“Who’s there?”

Hermione had retreated, her back against the house, just out of sight, praying he would just let it go. But, of course, he was an Auror, and also not hard of hearing, so she wasn’t surprised when she was suddenly face to shoulder with Ron Weasley, the reason she was out here to begin with, the prat.

“Are you spying on me?” he asked, his voice full of arrogance and firewhiskey-induced swagger. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. It was dark where they were standing, but she could make out the side of his smirking face that was illuminated by one of the lanterns from the garden.

“I – I was out front and heard a noise, not a big deal,” she replied nonchalantly, her face pinking at the way her words sort of melded together. She tried again to speak matter-of-factly. “It was hot in there- needed some air. It’s… cold. Out here, I mean. Still hot though. I wasn’t spying.”

She groaned inwardly at her robotic tone.  But he only nodded and backed away to sit on the railing opposite to her. “Great minds think alike, I reckon.”

“Perhaps.”

“Could also be all those shots we took.”

“I s’pose,” she said, not trusting herself with any more words than one or two at a time.

“Fucking hell, this is awkward,” Ron laughed to himself and shook his head.

“Hmmph.”

She pressed her lips together as she watched his face, and his hands, and his hair. The light was playing across the angles of his body as he moved, causing her to take in shallow breaths. She wanted to flee, run inside, away from Ron. But at the same time she could see herself, clear as a daydream, pulling him off that railing from the front of his stained jumper, and down to kiss her in the most not gentle way.

But she blamed him for all of it. Her uncharacteristic drunkenness, the confusing state she’d been in all day, how smug yet vulnerable he was. She didn’t know him- but somewhere inside her she felt like she did, and it made her head hurt. The urge to push him off that railing and see the shocked look on his face as he fell onto the grass behind him was starting to overwhelm her previous desires.

“You don’t get smashed often, do you?” Ron crossed his arms and looked at her from under his lashes. “I can tell.”

“You don’t know anything about what I’ve not ever done,” she said as primly as possible, crossing her own arms and leaning against the wall behind her for support. It was further away than she thought and she almost tripped. Again. “Nevermind me. You obviously drink more than you should.”

Ron sniggered. “Nah, I’m good. ‘Sides, you don’t know what I’ve done, no more than I do you.”

“I know you’re an arrogant prat who assumes way too much.”

“Touché.”

“And I also know you’ve got dirt on your face.” She snorted, the buzzing in her head making her feel silly all of a sudden. “It’s on your nose, right there.” She pointed and laughed as he rubbed the side of his nose.

“Are you taking the mickey?” he whined, dropping his hand and scowling at her.

“Perhaps.”

“Well, now I know somethin’ else ‘bout you- you’re mean,” he pouted, which made Hermione laugh even more. Then she couldn’t stop, and when she saw Ron’s mouth twist into a reluctant grin she held her sides, laughing louder until he was chuckling and shaking his head.

“You’re mental, aren’t you?” Ron giggled, then sighed loudly. “Damn… What the fuck is happening…” Then he was watching her with an expression that made her laughter fade into an awkward chuckle.

When he stood up from the railing Hermione’s laughter was cut short. Then he was right next to her, leaning his shoulder against the wall, looking down at her, so close she could practically hear his heart beating its own music in her ear that was level to his chest. She dared to glance upward and his blue eyes were cobalt and shiny and bloodshot, boring holes into hers. She couldn’t look away, but she had to tell herself to breathe as her stomach twisted and her vision blurred, so she gulped in a large bubble of air, and suddenly she was choking on it.

His hand was on her back, thumping it as she pushed off the wall and her hands flew to her mouth as she coughed. “I… don’t… feel… well…”

“Fuck. Here.” Ron pushed her unceremoniously to the edge of the railing he had just vacated. “Hold on.” She felt her hair being pulled away from her neck. His fingertips slid across her skin, and it was as if a hot poker, straight from the fire, had branded her there. She cried out and bent over the railing, her hands grabbing onto the edge as she emptied the contents of her stomach out onto the dark grass below.

“Ohhh… no,” she moaned when she was finally done, one hand now on her throbbing head that was still hanging over the side of the railing. She could feel Ron’s hand smoothing up and down her back, and it felt wonderful, despite the fact that she could also smell her sick and taste it in her mouth.

“All done?”

She nodded, but didn’t dare move, frozen by mortification. She could just stay like this, until he left, until forever…

“I’ll get you some water.” Next, she heard the door open, the sounds of talking and music filled the outside for only a few seconds, and then it closed with a bang.

She quickly straightened up, swayed on the spot, then pulled out her wand, disappearing the mess on the grass. Then she turned it onto her and cleaned her jumper and her mouth, finally feeling and smelling clean again. Her head was still pounding so she dragged herself to one of the comfortable padded chairs on the porch and plopped down onto it, groaning.

“I will never drink again,” she mumbled.

The door opened again and Ron came out with a glass of water, followed by Ginny who rushed to her side, a crease between her brows and a hand on Hermione’s forehead.

“Are you okay? Ron said you got sick. I told you to call for me.”

“It happened too quickly. Ron helped me, though. I’m sorry,” Hermione said, sitting up properly to show she was alright, and took the glass of water from Ron, mindful of not touching any of his fingers. “I’m so embarrassed.”

Ginny waved her hand dismimssively. “Nah, no one even knows. I caught Ron on his way out. Also, I’ve been drunk more times than I can count.” Hermione smiled as Ginny chuckled and rubbed her arm. “Reckon this is your first time?” Hermione nodded. “Well, I’m glad he was there. Makes for a nice bonding moment, wouldn’t you say?”

“The fuck are you on about?” Ron said, dropping down onto a chair near the door, looking at Ginny as if she’d grown two heads. “I think you’ve had enough to drink yourself.”

“Piss off, Ron. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” That seemed enough to shut him up as he rolled his eyes and stared straight ahead. She turned her attention back to Hermione. “Do you want to come back inside?”

Before she could answer, the door opened and Seamus poked his head out. “Ginny, Dean and I are leaving now. Wanted to say good bye and thanks. It was fun!”

“Thanks so much for coming!” Ginny went over and hugged him and Dean, who had come out onto the porch. Neville and Luna also came out, announcing their departure, then George. They all hugged and Hermione found enough strength to stand up and say good bye. After they stepped out onto the grass and disapparated she sat back down and Harry came out with a bowl of crisps and four pumpkin juices under his arm.

“That was fun,” he said, handing out the juice, then propping the bowl on his knee as he sank down onto another chair. Ginny went to sit on his lap, and there was a moment of clumsy laughter as she almost knocked the bowl over. Ron grabbed a handful of crisps and stuffed them in his mouth.

“Cheersh, Harry. Yesh, t’was a blasht,” he said, crumbs falling on his chest and lap.  

“You’re gross,” Ginny said, making Ron snort and more crumbs flew, this time in Ginny’s direction. She screeched and punched his arm. “Twat.”

“Did you have fun, Hermione?” Harry asked, then popped a crisp in his mouth. His eyes were watery, but he didn’t seem as inebriated as the brother and sister who were currently trying to toss bits of crisps into each other’s mouths, and missing.

“I did, thank you,” Hermione said, smiling through the pain in her stomach and head. “I may have drank a tad too much, I’m afraid.”

Harry raised his eyebrows and nodded. “I’ve learned not to try and keep up with these two. Must be the ginger hair; makes them able to consume more than us mere mortals.”

A crisp then bounced off Harry’s glasses, and Ron cackled loudly. “I was going for your scar, but that’ll do.”

Harry then sent a crisp sailing at Ron’s head, and missed as Ron ducked. Ginny, not to be left out, grabbed the bowl from Harry and turned it upside down onto Ron’s head; crisps, big and tiny, were all over his hair, face, clothes, and on the floor.

Ginny held her stomach as she laughed, until Ron looked up at her, blinking crumbs from his lids with a shocked expression. Ginny stopped laughing, then backed away, her hands out in front of her.

Ron suddenly stood up and towered over her. She went running back into the house, laughing and screaming that she was sorry. But Ron didn’t follow her, and instead sat back down and picked a crisp off his jumper. He tossed it into his mouth and chewed happily.

“They do that all the time,” Harry explained calmly to Hermione’s amused, yet confused, face. She didn’t have siblings, but she was starting to feel a pang of resentment toward her parents, for so much more than sending her off to school in another country.

“I’m knackered.” Harry announced, then got to his feet and pushed up his glasses. He clapped Ron on his shoulder, gave him a look Hermione couldn’t read, then said to him, “Alright?” To which Ron glanced at Hermione for a second and nodded. “Good night, Hermione. Ron can show you how to lock up. And don’t worry about the mess. I’ll clean up tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay. Um, good night. Tell Ginny thanks.”

“I will.”

Then she and Ron were alone again. The crickets were starting to give Hermione a headache, and when she looked over at Ron he was shaking his head free of crumbs, trying to get rid of the mess. He then lifted the hem of his jumper to wipe his face, and as he did Hermione could see an inch of stomach where the vest underneath had ridden up; pale skin, even in the semi-darkness, flat and hard with indents of muscles, and spots of freckles…

Her eyes had just slid over to his hip bones that disappeared underneath the edge of his trousers when her view was obstructed by his jumper once again.

“Blood Ginny wasting good crisps,” he muttered, oblivious to her ogling. She felt embarrassed nonetheless, and sat up straight.

“Thank you, for helping me. Sorry for getting sick like that. I’m not usually so… out of control.”

“Yeah, I thought as much. Don’t be sorry about it.” He sat back in the chair and closed his eyes.

She didn't know what she expected - another unsolicited admission, like he'd done earlier, when he spoke so candidly about his life after the war? That small glimpse into his true self, that part of him which had pulled at something within her, something she'd never known was there? That moment was true at least, and free from any magic, she was sure of it. But she didn’t want to be obvious in her desire to see more of that Ron; Or the Ron that was looking through her leaning on the wall. She could still hear his heartbeat…

When it became obvious nothing was happening she was about to speak up when he mumbled something.

“Excuse me?”

“I know... It was… same.” His eyes were still closed and she could barely hear him.

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t… pretend.”

“I don’t know what-“

“Her… mione…”

“Yes?”

Hermione was starting to grow impatient with his stalled speech, until she heard him snoring. She rolled her eyes and got up with a huff. She didn’t know what he was trying to say, but she had a feeling that, if she were to bring it up while sober, he’d probably forget he’d said anything at all. He’d probably forget most things that happened that night.

So she made her way to him and shook his shoulder. He blinked his eyes open to look up at her. “Come on, you should kip on the sofa. You’ll splinch if you disapparate. You’ll also freeze if you stay out here,” she whispered.

“Didn’t know you cared,” he slurred sleepily before slowly getting to his feet and opening the door and going inside before her, not waiting for her reply.

“Wait, the spell,” he said, leaning against the back door. “Fuck, what is it? Tap it three times and say… Fortuna Major. No, that’s an old Gryffindor password.”

“Should I wake Harry?” Hermione asked worriedly as Ron pinched his nose. She didn’t feel as intoxicated as she had before she got sick, but even her own eyes were starting to droop, and the dull ache in her head was still there. She was ready to be finished with this day.

“No, it’s… Cons..ans... Vig-vigilanta.”

“Constans Vigilantia?” she repeated, pronouncing the Latin translation correctly. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he replied groggily, then walked past her to the living room where he kicked off his trainers and fell face first onto the sofa.

Hermione mustered up the rest of her energy to perform the spell. The door glowed a dark reddish color, and when she turned to ask Ron if that was supposed to happen he was already asleep. With a sigh, hoping she had done it correctly, she used her wand to put out the candles. The lanterns from outside were still glowing through the curtains, but she was too tired to go back out there, so she left them on.

The sounds of crickets and Ron’s loud snoring were snuffed out when she was finally on the other side of her bedroom door. She leaned against it for a moment, waiting for her head and stomach to settle, then crawled into her bed and fell asleep within seconds.

XXXXX

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this story is continuing to be a confusing ball of mess and feelings! Literally…
> 
> I look forward to the response on this one. Thanks for reading!


	5. Bothered

Hermione woke up with a head full of lead that seemed to be attached to a hammer, beating on her skull repeatedly. Her stomach lurched and she rolled to her side, using her mountain of frizz to block out the brightness of day coming in through the window.

“Oh, god,” she whispered, groaning, placing one hand on her head and the other on her stomach. “First and last time, Hermione.”

There was a soft knock on the door, followed by Ginny’s head popping in, a sympathetic smile on her face and a mug in her hand.

“Hey, there,” Ginny whispered as she slipped into the room. “I brought you something.”

Hermione struggled to sit up and appear nonplussed about the construction work going on in her brain and stomach. “Good morning,” she replied with a wince, then smoothed her hair back from her face. “Sorry, I must look a mess. What time is it?”

Ginny sat at her feet on the bed. “It’s almost noon. And you just look hungover. Usually a good heave-ho would’ve done the trick, getting rid of some of the alcohol.”

“Heave-ho?” Hermione asked, squinting at Ginny, and then at the mug, praying it was coffee.

“Throwing up? Vom-“

“Oh, no,” Hermione moaned and pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead. “Right, I remember. Goodness, I’m so embarrassed. Tell me I didn’t do anything else equally as awful?”

“I dunno. Harry and I went to bed before you and Ron, so…” Ginny trailed off, her tone suggestive, and Hermione gulped.

“Nothing happened… I think. No- I know. Oh, my head hurts. Is that for me?” she asked, pointing to the mug, which Ginny handed to her. She took a sip and almost choked.

“Sorry,” Ginny said quickly. “Should’ve told you, it’s an anti-hangover potion. Just drink enough until you feel normal. It’s nasty, but it works.”

“Mmm, thanks,” Hermione murmured, taking another sip while pinching her nose. After the third gulp her head already felt lighter, and her stomach quit turning. “Amazing. Repulsive, but it worked.”

“Told ya,” Ginny chirped loudly and laughed, taking the mug from Hermione and placing it on the bedside table. “So. Tell me what happened last night between you and my brother. You may skip any rude details, of course.” She wrinkled her nose for a moment, then grinned with an eager look on her face.

“I told you, nothing happened,” Hermione replied as kindly as possible. The last thing she wanted to talk about was Ron and last night. The entire day and night was a mess of misunderstanding, awkwardness, and stress, ending with her puking in the bushes.

“He fell asleep and almost nearly forgot the spell to lock the house. I got it out of him, and then we went to bed. I- _he_ went to sleep on the sofa- _me_ in my room. Here. Where you found me.” She got out of bed and rummaged through her bag that had fallen on the floor, hoping to disguise her stammering with frustration over not finding her clothes.

“If you say so,” Ginny said with a shrug. “I’m just glad you’re getting along. At least that’s what it looked like. Right?”

Hermione straightened up, clothes in hand. “Yeah… I think so.”

If she were being honest with herself, she didn’t really believe Ron had meant any harm. That didn’t mean she agreed with his methods, nor did it mean she trusted him, for that matter. Besides, he was a bit too arrogant and blunt for her taste. Not that she had a taste, per say... Why did it matter, anyhow? It wasn’t as if she had to live or work with him. So Hermione resolved to just be cordial toward Ron, and hope that any attraction - or whatever that was yesterday - would just go away on its own.

 “I should apologize to Harry,” she continued, changing the subject away from Ron. “I’m afraid I didn’t leave much of a great first impression. I left the lanterns on overnight as well.”

Ginny waved her hand dismissively. “Are you joking? He was quite taken with you. He agreed to this because of me, but he doesn’t offer just anyone an opportunity to work with him.”

“That was unexpected, I’ll admit,” Hermione said, biting her lip anxiously.

“He’s not home right now anyway. He said he had to ‘take care of something’.”

“You don’t sound too pleased about that,” Hermione said, sitting back down. “I don’t mean to pry.”

Ginny flipped her hair and shrugged, looking down at her hands. “No, it’s fine. I mean, _we’re_ fine, but he’s just been acting strange lately. More than usual.” Then she smiled and took a deep breath. “But I’m sure it’s just his usual brooding, wanting to be alone. I give him enough space to make him think I don’t notice, but Ron and I, we help each other keep an eye on him.”

“If I can help in any way, just let me know, alright? I don’t know what I can do, but I’m here,” Hermione said sympathetically and reached out to squeeze Ginny’s hand.

“Thanks. Like I said, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. I think Ron’s paranoia is rubbing off on me,” Ginny joked, and got up quickly, striding to the door. “Alright, get dressed. We’re going out.”

“Where are we going?”

“Diagon Alley. You told me you’ve never been, so I figured today would be the perfect day to go.”

 

A little while later, Ginny apparated the both of them into The Leaky Cauldron. It was quite noisy, especially after leaving the secluded quietness of Ginny and Harry’s cottage. The inn was full of witches and wizards sitting and standing, eating and drinking, talking and laughing. Ginny led the way toward the bar, with Hermione weaving in and out of bodies, trying to keep up.

“Oi, Sam!” Ginny called, leaning over the counter to yell at a tall girl about their age, with straight blonde hair pulled back into a long ponytail. Sam left the glass she was cleaning and came over to where Ginny was, hugging her over the counter. Her blue eyes lit up and her full red lips widened into a smile as she leaned her aproned hip against the counter.

“Wotcher, Gin, what’s good? A bit early for a drink, yeah?”

“Nah, we’re here for lunch. But I want you to meet someone. Hermione, this is Sam. Sam, this is Hermione. She just moved here from France. Sam is a friend from school. A Hufflepuff, but I forgave her for it.”

Sam smacked her teeth, and laughed. “I swear, you Gryffindors are as arrogant as those Slytherins, aren’t you.” Ginny guffawed as Sam turned to raise her brow at Hermione. She raked her eyes up and down her body before smiling and extending her hand. “ _Very_ nice to meet you”.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Hermione replied, blushing when Sam held her hand a bit longer than necessary.

“She’s not like that,” Ginny said flatly to Sam, then snorted when her friend rolled her eyes.

“I was only being polite,” Sam said, tossing a dirty rag at Ginny who caught it and threw it back.

“Yeah, sure,” Ginny laughed. “Give us some meat pies and butterbeers, pretty please?”

“Anything for my favorite ginger,” Sam said with a bow. Then she winked at Hermione and disappeared behind a swinging door behind her.

“That was Sam,” Ginny said, pulling Hermione away to snag a recently vacated table. “She’s brilliant, and loads of fun. And she gives me free chips.”

“I’ve never been flirted with by a woman,” Hermione whispered excitedly as they sat down. “That’s what that was, correct?”

Amusement danced across Ginny’s face. “Oh yeah. Big time.”

No sooner had they sat down Sam reappeared with a platter of food and drinks. “There you go,” she said, placing down mugs and plates, including one piled high with chips.

“Cheers, Sam,” Ginny said, popping one in her mouth.

“Between you and your brother we’re gonna run out of potatoes back there,” Sam said with a smirk and tucked the empty platter under her arm.

“Oh, has Ron been in today already?” Ginny asked. At the mention of Ron’s name, Hermione sat up in her chair, averting her eyes to appear nonchalant, simultaneously hating herself for the gut reaction.

“Not yet, but it is Sunday, so we’ve prepared the kitchen just in case,” she answered, making Ginny nod in agreement, and they both giggled. “Enjoy your lunch, ladies.” Then she looked at Hermione and said, “We’ll have to hang out soon, when I’m not working, of course.”

“Oh, sure,” Hermione replied, then wondered if she had just agreed to a date with a woman or not. “It would be nice to make new friends.”

“Brillant,” Sam said with a nod, and with a cheery wave she walked away, leaving Hermione flushed.

“Don’t worry, she has that effect on everyone,” Ginny said indifferently as they began to eat. “But she reminded me, we’ll have to stop in at the shop later. George has done a bang up job of it. He reopened only two years ago, and it’s already expanded, with Ron’s help. He’s thinking of opening another one in Hogsmeade. We should go there next weekend! You’ll love it. It’s always snowing, and Honeydukes is the best candy shop.”

Hermione wasn’t listening while Ginny rambled on; She was remembering how she had practically scolded George the night before, after only a minute into the introductions. And then there was Ron… She didn’t feel prepared at all.

“I didn’t know Ron had a second job,” Hermione asked casually when Ginny paused to take a bite.

“He helps George once a week, when he can. Refused wages, but George pays him anyway. It’s adorable, really. So would you like to do that next weekend?”

“Do what?”

“Hogsmeade?”

“Oh, yes! That sounds lovely,” Hermione said, avoiding Ginny’s amused expression.

XXXXX

Ron had woken up on Sunday morning with a stiff body and a crick in his neck from falling asleep at a weird angle on Harry and Ginny’s sofa. He then realized how early it was and took advantage of the stealthy exit. When he got home his clothing was shed, and he dropped onto the bed...

“Ron! Ron, wake up!”

A hand was jostling his shoulder; a voice, loud and deep, was shouting in his ear. He waved a hand in the general direction of where he thought George had gone. Suddenly, the inside of his eyelids were lit up a bright red: his curtains had been pulled roughly away from the window, shooting daggers of sunlight onto his face, effectively and momentarily blinding him.

“Fuck off,” he growled, the offensive greeting muffled by his pillow that he buried his head in.

“Seriously, Ron? It’s nearly half past eight. You promised, remember?”

“Shit,” Ron groaned and rolled over onto his back. “Sorry.” He sat up, rubbing his eyes and then his sore neck. “I’ll get dressed. Just gimme a minute.”

“Fine. You have exactly one minute, little brother, or you’re working in your pants.”

Then he was gone, slamming the bedroom door behind him. Ron jumped up and ran to the loo, then got dressed in jeans and the orange Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes t-shirt George made him wear whenever he helped out at the shop… which was today. He hadn’t forgotten- he’d just overslept. He’d been late before, and George had never reacted this way. Obviously, he was still pissed off about that whole No Foe/Hermione Granger situation.

“Okay, let’s go,” Ron said briskly when he walked through the living room, grabbed his jacket and wand, and made for the door. But George had other ideas. He was sat on the sofa, clearly not moving.

“Alright,” Ron sighed and tossed his jacket onto the coffee table. “You got me up so we can talk. Fine. At least let me have a coffee if we’re gonna do this now.”

“Make me one, too, while you’re at it,” George said, his stony expression lifting at the request.

“Sure thing.”

Using magic made it hard to stall for time when tasks could be done with a wave of a wand, so he had only a moment to collect his thoughts, which were still a jumble of confusion, especially after last night. Sooner than later, he was sitting next to George on the sofa, taking in gulps of hot coffee.

“You didn’t tell me,’ George said bluntly, taking a sip and peering at Ron out of the corner of his eye.

“Tell you what?” Ron asked slowly, not wanting to admit to anything without cause. He knew enough from being on the other side of an interrogation to keep his answers short and only give information if absolutely necessary.

“I’m talking about the No Foe?… Hermione?... How you weren’t supposed to use it on anyone else, for experimental reasons. Ron, we talked about this.” George sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“Well, she wasn’t supposed to know, was she? That was the whole idea of it. Two birds, one stone, and all that,” Ron said, then sat up to look at George eagerly. “Which makes me wonder, about what happened… how do you explain it? I’ve been going mad thinking about this, and I’m so fucking confused.”

George sighed. “Well, I wouldn’t be able to tell you cause I don’t even know what the hell happened. Start from the beginning.”

And he did; he told George about shaking Hermione’s hand, how it felt hotter than he thought it would, how she seemed to yank her hand away as if burned, then later how she confronted him about using magic on her, telling him that she felt it, and how angry she was. And how she claimed it must be faulty because she wasn’t interested.

“Which makes sense, doesn’t it?” Ron asked. “I mean, we only just met. How could she- but, I dunno. That doesn’t matter, I just need to know why it happened so we can fix it.”

“For it to heat up to that level, that doesn’t make sense,” George said thoughtfully. “Maybe you were feeling especially… frisky that day? Forgot to beat one off?”

“What the hell does that have to do with it?” Ron asked, sputtering. He thought back to that morning in the shower, how he refrained from wanking. But surely that shouldn’t… “Go on.”

“I’m only guessing, but maybe you projected some of that randiness outward, through the potion, reversed the charm somehow. Mind you, that still shouldn’t have happened, but then again it is a brand new type of magic...” Then he added with emphasis: “Which is why you shouldn’t have used it without telling me.”

Ron scrunched up his nose. “So, you’re saying because I’m a horny bastard I made her feel that way, too? Cause, mate, let me tell you, in that moment… when we held hands… it was like- like she was- what?”

George was staring at Ron, smirking and shaking his head. “Nothing, I’m just wondering if maybe I’m wrong.”

“About what?”

“I was just gonna say, maybe there’s more to it than just a physical attraction, at least on your end. She didn’t seem too fond of you last night.”

Ron felt his face warm up, and he rubbed his cheeks to hide the creeping blush as memories from last flashed across his mind. “I dunno, she didn’t seem too bothered when we were alone,” he mumbled to himself, hearing her laughter replay in his mind, seeing her eyes up close when they were leaning against the house… He wonders if she even remembered any of it.

“Oh, really?” George hooted and smacked Ron’s knee.

“Nothing happened! We were drunk, and talking…”

“Ah, well, you have way more experience with the ladies than I do now. Can’t give you much advice there.”

“I don’t, not really,” Ron muttered. George scoffed, but Ron ignored him as he imagined her in his mind, the way she looked under the pale flickering light of the lanterns, right before she spewed chunks... “She’s not like any other girl I’ve ever met. She didn’t put up with my bullshit, she fought back. And she seems smart. Got a right stick up her arse, though… _what_?”

“Never mind,” George said after wiping a smirk off his face, and finished his coffee. “I get it. You got paranoid, took matters into your own hands- literally- and it backfired- also almost kind of literally? Anyway, don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out. Run some more tests- _on willing participants_.” He stood up and Ron followed, feeling more relaxed with George back on his side.

“It just wasn’t ready, that’s all,” George continued as Ron grabbed his coat and they made for the door. “So it might be faulty, like she said, and she really does hate your guts. _Or_ she might have the hots for you, and you for her. Maybe you’ll get married and pop out some ginger genius babies. Who the hell knows? It’s only been one bloody day. But, mate, brother, you got it bad.”

“You’re mental, you are,” Ron said as George laughed at him, trying desperately to shake the image of tiny red-headed babies and Hermione from his head. “That’ll never happen, so you can forget that option. Look, I’m sorry I used it. I should’ve said something when I told you about Harry wanting it for work. Then maybe you would’ve talked me out of it, and I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Ron closed the door behind them with a sigh, and George clapped his hand on Ron’s shoulder, pushing him ahead. “Come on, brother. Time is money, and you’re not paying me to talk to you, so let’s go to work.”

 

Four long and busy hours later, Ron was zipping his leather jacket up to the neck as he strode down the cobbled street of Diagon Alley, pulling his knitted hat down lower to try and cover his hair. He could have apparated there, but he liked walking; Fresh air and time away from a bustling shop full of snotty parents asking ridiculous questions, and kids knocking things over left and right, were excellent reasons to volunteer to pick up lunch for him and George. However, it was always busy on Sundays, and more often than not he’d get recognized on the street by at least one person, causing a snowball effect, and next thing he knew the ten minutes he promised George he’d be gone had turned into a half hour or more.

So today, because of the brisk weather his body was hunched over, his signature Weasley hair hidden under a knitted hat, and the bright orange shirt he was forced to wear didn’t show from underneath his jacket. Because of weather he was able to make it to The Leaky Cauldron in record time, and without incident. Ron loved Autumn.

“Hey, Sam,” Ron greeted, taking his hat off now that he was inside the dim-lit pub, and sat heavily on a barstool, leaning his elbows on the counter. He flashed Sam a grin when she approached with a hand on her hip. “You’re looking fit today,” he drawled, making her roll a pair of blue eyes at him. “That apron really brings out your… er face.”

Sam snorted and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re getting better, but try eyes next time, not face.”

“Ha! Right. Eyes.” Ron laughed then shrugged. “Still, doesn’t mean it isn’t true, yeah?”

Sam put her palm against her chest and feigned shock. “Okay, now _that_ was good. If only you were my type…”

“Yeah, well, we can’t have everything we want,” Ron quipped, making Sam roll her eyes for the second time.

“And now we’re back to normal,” she retorted, then asked, “So what’ll it be? The usual, times two?”

“Yeah, thanks,” he nodded.

“Oh, by the way,” Sam said, halfway through the kitchen door, “your sister and her friend are here. Pretty girl. I tried, but maybe you’ll have better luck? Don’t forget- eyes, Ron, not face.”

“Very funny. Hey, I could be a smart arse, too… if I didn’t want free chips,” Ron gave her a cheeky smile, which she returned before disappearing into the kitchen.

As soon as she was gone he stood up, using his height to scan the rest of the pub. He spotted Ginny’s flaming hair, then Hermione’s curls as they stood up from their table and were walking toward him.

He felt nervous all of a sudden. Under any other circumstance, Hermione would be like any other woman he meets. He wouldn’t feel any anxiety over whether or not they weren’t interested. And if they weren’t, he was okay with that. But with Hermione, something was different. Although he sensed that she was attracted to him, she still acted disinterested, not to mention rightfully pissed off at him. And that bothered him more than it probably should. Besides wanting to make up for what he did, he also had this overwhelming, and altogether puzzling, desire to make her like him- whether that be romantically or platonically, he would take either one.

With that realization buzzing around inside his head, Ron sat back down on his stool, and the sudden urge to smell his own breath and assess his general hygiene came over him. But Hermione spotted him right away, and her already large brown eyes widened a bit more as she led Ginny his way.

“Hey,” Ron said, and cleared his throat to cover the break in his voice.

“Hullo,” Hermione replied with a terse smile and looked away when Ron smiled back.

“Oi, Ron!” Ginny nudged Ron in the ribs, then sat in the stool next to him. “We were just going to come see you and George. How’s it going over there? Busy?”

Ron nodded and nudged Ginny back. “That’s why I’m here. If one more ten year old asks me for another bloody pygmy puff I’m gonna bloody scream.”

“Ouch,” Ginny said. “Someone woke up on the wrong end of the bed. Or sofa?” She glanced at Hermione and snorted.

“Yeah… both, I reckon,” he chuckled as he watched Hermione’s cheeks redden. He was about to ask what he missed when Sam approached with a large paper bag that smelled fantastic.

“Here you go,” she said, handing the warm package to Ron who had just pulled his hat back on, more than ready to leave, and eat.

“Thanks, love,” Ron said gratefully, for the food, and for the interruption. He handed her a pile of coins and they all said their goodbyes, Ron noticing Hermione’s demeanor lighten considerably.

Ron, Hermione and Ginny made their way outside and onto the crowded Diagon Alley. Fortunately he didn’t have to worry about making conversation because Ginny was pointing out each and every shop to Hermione, telling her how Flourish and Blotts was where she first spoke full sentences in front of Harry when she was only eleven; And Eeylops Owl Emporium, where she threatened for the fifth time that month to buy a new owl.

Eventually, they reached the brightly orange painted front doors of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Usually, Ron would duck into the alley, entering the storage room in the back to avoid the customers. However, Ginny opened the front doors, letting Hermione experience the shop as a customer, so Ron followed, the brown bag of food tucked under his arm making his stomach growl.

“It’s incredible,” Hermione breathed, looking around, her sharp eyes taking everything in. She jumped back when a group of children ran past, almost knocking her over to grab handfuls of Ton Tongue toffees. “You weren’t exaggerating about how busy it is in here,” she said to Ron with a genuine smile that made him feel a bit hopeful.

When Ginny went ahead to look for George, Hermione plucked a box of Dungbombs off the nearest display and read the label. “Clever. Did you help him come up with this one, too? I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Oi, what’s that supposed to mean?” Ron asked, not entirely surprised by the cold shoulder, but taken aback by the clear-as-day insult, especially after she was just being friendly. “Are you trying to say I smell like shite? I’ll have you know I showered… at least a week ago.” His attempt at humor was thwarted as Hermione merely wrinkled her nose at him and kept walking around the shop, looking at all the random products.

“I didn’t- I wasn’t serious,” he stuttered now that he might have unintentionally added unhygienic to the list of things she hated about him. “I am clean, you know. I was only joking. I shower all the time. I mean, I scrub for ages. Every day. ‘Til the water runs cold sometimes.”

“For goodness sake, forget it,” Hermione said with a huff and finally turned to face him. “I get it. You’re sanitary. And you’re obviously trying to sweet talk me into not saying anything, which I won’t, so you can stop trying to be nice to me.” She looked around quickly and lowered her voice. “However, I would like to speak to George, if that’s possible?”

Ron was speechless as she spoke, her words cutting into him like a knife. But then narrowed his eyes, and the frustration over her flippant behaviour toward him was starting to show. “I don’t understand. I thought we were okay. And why do you want to speak to George?”

“We are,” she replied as if it was a ridiculous question, not convincing him in the slightest with the short tone in which she said it. And there was also her snapping at him just moments ago. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to blame him for anything. But it _is_ a rare kind of magic, and I’d just like to ask him about the properties and theories behind it.”

“Properties and theories about what?” George asked, joining them with Ginny by his side.

“Oh! Um, this one.” Hermione recovered quickly and grabbed a box from the shelf to her immediate right.

“U-No-Poo?” Ginny giggled. Ron snorted loudly when Hermione actually read the box, her face turned red from embarrassment, and she hastily put it back on the shelf.

“Not exactly that one in particular, but any one of these products, really,” she recovered quickly, smoothing her hair away from her face. “This is a lovely shop, George. You seem to be doing very well here.”

“Why, thank you,” George said with a low bow. “As a friend of the family you may have anything you want... at regular price, of course.”

They all laughed, but Ron knew he was serious. Not even he, as George’s brother and employee, got a discount. Although, he’d nab the occasional sweet now and then when he wasn’t looking.

“Well,” Ron said, holding up the bag of food out to George, “I dunno about you, but I’m bloody starving. Did you get Verity in to work this afternoon?”

George took the bag and opened it, looking inside and taking a deep breath. “Oh, sweet Merlin… Nah, she couldn’t make it. We’ll have to eat as we work, as per usual.”

“We can help!” Ginny cried out, pointing to herself and Hermione, who looked startled.

“I- Yes, I don’t mind,” Hermione added, nodding her head immediately.  

Ron, surprised at her on the spot agreement, said, “Okay, then… If you don’t mind…”

“Not at all,” she replied, and smiled at him, and he could almost feel the sincerity behind it, and it was doing something to his chest and stomach and brain…

He grabbed George by his arm and wheeled him around, pushing him toward the back storage room door behind the counter, and saying to Ginny and Hermione over his shoulder, “Thanks! We’ll be back in a half hour.”

“You break it, you bought it!” George added before Ron pushed him through the door and slammed it behind them.

“Shit,” Ron said, pulling a chair out from the small card table in the middle of the cluttered room filled with shelves of unopened boxes and crates of merchandise. George sat across from him, and gave Ron a questioning look as he spread their lunch out on the table. Ron stared, dumbfounded, down at his untouched food, his stomach in knots. He was suddenly and completely not hungry.

“What the hell is up with you?” George asked before taking a large bite of his meat pie.

Ron looked up at George with unblinking eyes and shook his head unbelievably. “George… Fucking hell, I think you were right.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like the beginning to what will become a multi-chapter story! I have never written an AU story before so I’m kinda pumped about it…   
> Thank you for reading and please leave a review. I’d really like some feedback!


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